


Aftermath

by kibosama



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Action and violence, All the time, BUT WE KNOW WHY DON'T WE, I just want to squish their faces together, I promise, Immortal Husbands, Joe/Nicky in the beginning, Light Angst, M/M, Nicolo likes it when Yusuf smiles at him, Slooooow burn, Some angst, alllll the cuddles, and as canon as I can make it, and doesn't know why, classic enemies to friends to lovers, crocodiles are evil, culture gaps, eventually, how indulgent should I make this, just ask Nicky, just bear with me there's only so much research I have time to do, language gaps, marked mature for sexy times, really the angst is an excuse for cuddles, rest of the characters will show up, story is as historically accurate as I can make it, the answer is very
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 52,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibosama/pseuds/kibosama
Summary: Nicolo has a growing list of Things That No Longer Make Sense. They go as follows:1) He can no longer die. Which, in itself, is pretty strange.2) The man he killed multiple times is somehow, impossibly, like him.3) He may or may not be having a crisis of faith.4) His former enemy is treating him like a friend. Even defending him, the man that can't die.5) And, most confusing of all, why does he like it when Yusuf smiles at him like THAT?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 958
Kudos: 2015





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, forgive any grammar goofs. I have no beta for this and I read it through once while brain dead trying to catch my own errors. We all know how that goes.  
> I'm going off the movie and the first volume of the comic, which is all I know at this point. So, loosely canon.  
> And basically, I'm writing the story that I really want to read. Because I am DYING to see the full enemies-friends-lovers cycle that these two go through. And I want the full, epic, nitty gritty story. So bear with me, this will take a while to write. (Mostly because I'm supposed to be writing other things. Shhhh don't tell.)

Yusuf Al-Kaysani turned out to be a very polite man.

When he wasn’t trying to kill people, at least.

It had been five days since he’d stopped trying to kill Nicolo. Since Nicolo had given up killing him. Those five days had been very uneasy, both of them watching each other, trust barely hanging by a thread. But still, Yusuf was polite. He offered Nicolo water if he filled up their water skins. He always shared whatever he hunted. He kept an eye out for Nicolo, stopping him before he treaded onto some snake’s territory.

It made Nicolo think that Yusuf wasn’t a bad man. It was another tally of the things that No Longer Made Sense. It was, unfortunately, a rather long list at this point.

Nicolo rode alongside Yusuf through the scorching desert heat, his eyes peeled as he surveyed the landscape. The sun was slowly starting to set. They’d need to find a good place to stop for the night, somewhere with water. Some game. They were low on both water and food and there was no town in sight. There was precious little in this desert land. Little in the way of anything hospitable. It made Nicolo question all over again, why would God’s country be here? In this desolate place that could kill an unwary man?

Well, except for them. He and Yusuf apparently were the exceptions to the rule.

Yusuf pointed to something off in the distance, to the right of the road. (The word road was used very loosely. Nicolo honestly couldn’t tell the difference between it and the hard-baked soil on either side.) He said something, in the rough-sounding language that Nicolo didn’t understand. They were trying to learn each other’s languages, but it was difficult with nothing in common between them. Nicolo knew about twenty words now of Arabic.

Yusuf, unfairly, knew about forty of Genovian. Because of course his sworn enemy would be smarter than he was.

Whatever it was, Nicolo didn’t understand the word itself. But as he squinted and looked that direction, he could see the traces of green surrounding a single area. Too small to be an oasis, but perhaps a well? One of the things he’d learned quickly was that the distances in the desert could be very deceiving. Things that looked close often weren’t.

So he turned and asked his companion in careful Arabic, “Close?”

Yusuf waggled his head back and forth. “Close, I think. Go.”

Nicolo had a brief, proud moment that he’d understood every word.

Yes, they were simple words. Still.

They rode that direction, leaving the road (Nicolo was fairly certain of it) and heading towards the green. Shade for an evening with cool water nearby would be a blessing. And where there was water, there was sure to be game.

When they left the battlefield, they hadn’t done so with full provisions. They’d basically been scrambling just to gather what they had. The first time Nicolo had clashed swords with Yusuf, the man had been just another enemy. Another person to cut down. And he’d done so. Then Yusuf had popped up again, killing him the next time in a quick, furious attack. That pattern had repeated over and over and while the battlefield was chaotic, it wasn’t _that_ chaotic. People had noticed that Nicolo, despite the blood on him, was still miraculously okay.

Yusuf apparently had the same problem. People started questioning, then avoiding them. It wasn’t viewed as a miracle. It was viewed with suspicion, a sign that they had sold their souls to the devil. They must, otherwise why cheat death and continue to rise? Why not die as martyrs like everyone else?

So the last time they’d died at each other’s hand, they’d awoken to find the other nearby and that the battle had moved past them. In earshot still, but far enough away to not attract immediate notice. Yusuf had signaled for a truce and Nicolo, exhausted, had nodded agreement. He was truly tired of killing the man. You can only do something so much with the same result before sanity encouraged you to try a different tactic.

But with them left behind as they were, bloodied as they were, obviously having died and been counted as dead, it didn’t leave them much in the way of options. They’d unanimously made the decision to desert, gathered up whatever provisions and weapons they could from the fallen, snagged a few horses wandering aimlessly nearby, and left as quickly as possible.

Nicolo still questioned that decision. But whatever happened to him, happened to Yusuf too. And if they were to stand a chance at figuring it out, it was better done while working with each other.

It’s just that he missed home. He missed the green fields and many vineyards. His family.

And he was very aware that he might not ever be able to return to it. Not like this.

It was a depressing thought and one that had crossed his mind before. Nicolo shook it off as he had no time for it. He might not die of starvation or dehydration. He didn’t even burn under this unrelentless sun anymore. But not dying was only sort of a blessing. He had no desire to wander aimlessly in this forsaken land without any provisions for years on end.

The sun had just started to touch the far horizon when they finally reached the little patch of green. It turned out not to be much—a few scraggly trees, patches of tough, wiry looking plants that might be grass in a former life. There was a single small pond of water, more like a well as it had a natural fall of rocks around it that kept the water shaded. Nicolo dove for it immediately, drinking his fill and then some. The liquid was blessedly cool against his parched throat. He turned, gestured Yusuf to go ahead, then backed up to give the man room.

As Yusuf drank, he kept an eye out, guarding the man’s back. Nicolo, the first week he was in this country, unwisely thought that because he could see for leagues in all directions, he could see someone coming. Not the case. Bandits out here were crafty and they’d learned how to camouflage in with the desert very, very well.

Bastards. He was still upset about his lost boots.

He unsaddled the horse while Yusuf tended to his own. Yusuf pulled out some of the snares he used for game, then the bow and gestured that he was going hunting. Nicolo gestured for him to go ahead. He was better at finding game out here. Frankly, Nicolo didn’t know what to look for. Not in this desert clime.

He gathered up firewood and got a small fire going instead. They had a little bit of food, enough to tide them over tonight. He’d cook that, settle the horses in properly.

The camp chores kept him busy until Yusuf returned victorious with a brace of hares and a bird. They went a little distance away, slaughtering and cleaning the meat. The furs they kept to tan and use, maybe for trade later. They didn’t have much coin between them.

Yusuf did his ritual of cleaning his hands, head and feet that he liked to do whenever they found fresh water. Nicolo left him to his prayers and the man returned shortly. It was a quiet evening, with them teaching each other words as they went along. Peaceful, really.

Nicolo sometimes had a hard time remembering he’d run this man through on multiple occasions. Especially when Yusuf flashed him that smile, that pleased expression as Nicolo parroted a word back perfectly. That smile did funny things to his insides. He chose not to examine his own reaction too deeply.

It would just join the list of Things That No Longer Made Sense.

“Me, first?” Yusuf asked him in Genovian.

“Sure,” Nicolo agreed in Arabic. He had no problem taking second watch. He shook out his blankets, found a less rocky patch of soil, and curled into it to catch what sleep he could.

He had no memory of his eyes closing but abruptly there was a startled oath and Yusuf yelling, “Nicolo! UP!”

Nicolo, war-hardened as he was, was out of his blankets in the blink of an eye, his sword coming up and at the ready. Not a moment too soon, either, as a man lunged at him with blade held high. Nicolo blocked, parried, gave ground easily as ground wasn’t the point here. He found an opening in those wide, sweeping movements the people favored here and struck hard in a lunge.

Focusing on that one opponent cost him as a knife slashed at him from the back. Whirling, he turned on the man trying to ambush him and realized that Yusuf was holding off two men himself. And there were more coming.

Cursing soundly, he kicked the man solidly in the chest, buying himself some breathing room. Then he darted for Yusuf, intending to regroup, only to be caught short as two more men charged him. Damn, damn, damn. Nicolo was back to defending, avoiding pain more than death. Right now, holes in his clothes were more problematic than a sword through his ribs and wasn’t that an odd, macabre thought?

He whirled, slashing at the bandits, seeing nothing but their general shapes in the relative darkness of the night. If not for the banked fire, he’d have no light to see them at all. One man fell at his sword’s edge, the other taking advantage of his comrade’s demise and nearly getting a knife into Nicolo’s throat.

It was blocked neatly by Yusuf’s blade, the man coming to his defense. “Nicolo!”

Nicolo grunted, recognizing that Yusuf only called his name to tell him he was there, to avoid a friendly attack. He moved to put his back to Yusuf’s and their shoulder blades brushed a few times as they darted in and out, using each other as protection even as they fought. The fight dissolved into grunts, scuffs and puffs of dirt flying about as their feet dug into the earth, and the pained cries of the dying.

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. Nicolo stood there, breathing hard, looking around for another enemy to face. But none living greeted him. Well, that had been short lived and pointless.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Yusuf turned him, looking him over from head to toe and back again in an anxious sweep. Nicolo found himself doing the same to him. He didn’t look hurt, or if he had been, it had already healed. No major tears in the clothing, at least. Nicolo found himself relieved.

Why was he relieved?

The same relief crossed over Yusuf’s face, relaxing his expression. “Good?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Nicolo answered without thinking, then grimaced. He hadn’t taught Yusuf ‘fine’ yet.

Still, the man took his meaning and for a moment, Yusuf broke out into that proud, happy smile he sometimes aimed at Nicolo. The smile that did funny things to his stomach and heart.

Really, the man was strange. Three days ago, Yusuf had been desperately trying to kill him. Now he was happy that Nicolo was unhurt. If Nicolo wasn’t his enemy, was he automatically a friend? Was that how Yusuf thought?

He really didn’t understand Yusuf Al-Kaysani.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been able to find an accurate source one way or another, but because Genova was a city-state of it's own in the 900's, I assume that it had it's own dialect. So I won't say 'Italian' but will try to reflect the dialect that Nicky is probably speaking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the first two chapters in one go, so I'll post them both tonight. After that, I get to sit down and figure out where this is going. XD

* * *

Yusuf really didn’t understand Nicolo di Genova.

Take today, for example. They had been travelling together for two weeks now. Nicolo spent more and more time learning Arabic, to the point that Yusuf was falling behind in learning Genovian. It was as if the man was desperate to understand him properly, to have a proper conversation that didn’t devolve into gestures and frustration.

It was imperative they learn how to communicate, granted. Yusuf still wasn’t sure if Nicolo knew their destination. His thought was to go west, into Egypt to start with. Egypt saw enough foreign trade from all over the world that a man with blond hair and fair skin wouldn’t be remarked upon. Yusuf wouldn’t get a second glance.

And if Egypt didn’t work out, then Yusuf had heard good things about Malta. It was further west, more distance to travel, but that was alright. They had all the time in the world right now. The important thing was to find a place they could stay together. Some place that wouldn’t look at an Genovian and Arab man keeping company and think something fishy was going on.

But that wasn’t the only strange thing Nicolo was doing. Ever since the night of the bandit attack, he no longer slept on the opposite side of the fire. He didn’t view Yusuf with those grave, suspicious eyes either. He lay his bedroll now precisely next to Yusuf’s although their blankets never touched. He sat next to Yusuf’s feet when on watch as if ready to spring to the man’s defense.

It was as if, by coming to put his back to Nicolo’s during the fight, he’d finally gotten it through the man’s head that he wasn’t an enemy anymore. Yusuf could have told him that he hadn’t seen Nicolo as an enemy since walking off the battlefield with him.

Well, he had tried. Damn language barrier.

Now, more than ever, Yusuf yearned to be able to talk to him properly. They had a decision to make and Yusuf wasn’t sure which Nicolo would prefer to do. They’d reached the coastline and the possibility of buying passage on a ship, sailing the rest of the way into Cairo, was there.

If they had enough coin. Which, sadly, they didn’t.

They could sell the horses, though, and some of their equipment and that might make up for it. But it would also mean arriving in Cairo with barely a coin between them which didn’t seem the better option. Yusuf wasn’t sure which Nicolo preferred to do, keep riding or try to sail and then make quick money once they arrived.

And he didn’t have the words to say it all.

Groaning, he pulled off to the side of the road, well within sight of the gleaming blue ocean and the town sprawled along it’s coast. He could see ships in the harbor, too, going in and out. Nicolo’s eyes were transfixed on the sight, eyes a little hungry. Did he think of home and miss it?

Yusuf didn’t want to ask even if he could get the point across. Neither of them would be able to go home, not anytime soon. If ever. He swallowed that painful thought and snapped his fingers to get Nicolo’s attention. “Nicolo. Sail to Cairo?”

Nicolo’s head turned and he regarded him in bemusement. “What?”

Damn, they’d not covered sail before. He pantomimed a boat with a cupped hand. “Boat.”

Nicolo stared hard at his hand, willing understanding and obediently repeated, “Boat.”

He mimicked waves with his other hand, letting the ‘boat’ bob along the waves. “Sail.”

Understanding dawned. “Sail boat? Where?”

Right, now they were getting somewhere. “Sail boat to Cairo.”

“Cairo?”

Why couldn’t all of the languages in the world call the countries and cities by the same names? You know, the ones that the native inhabitants called them instead of whatever explorer that ‘found’ the place called it?

What was a universal landmark that even the Genovians would call by the same name? Yusuf thought hard before pointing west. “City on Nile.”

Nicolo jolted. “There? Why?”

Yusuf shrugged. “Trade.” He pointed to both of them. “Lots of people.”

Nicolo’s brows drew together and he muttered something to himself. Yusuf only caught part of it, but it seemed to be an agreement. Then Nicolo pulled his coin purse out of his pocket, jiggling it in an illustrative manner. “Sail? Really?”

Yusuf splayed his hands in a helpless shrug. “Sell horses?”

The Genovian did some quick math, conversions, then grimaced. He apparently saw the flaw in this plan fairly quickly.

“We ride to Cairo otherwise,” Yusuf pointed out.

Nicolo caught his meaning and sighed, nodding in resignation. He pointed ahead to the town. “Food? Water?”

“We’ll buy both.” And some new clothes, if they could. Something less conspicuous than the military wear they had on. Yusuf would keep a close eye on Nicolo as they shopped. They were still in enemy territory for him, after all. And there was many a hard feeling here about anyone with fair hair.

Thinking about it, he twisted in his saddle and pulled out a thin head covering. Gesturing, he had Nicolo pull in closer before leaning over in the saddle and arranging the cloth around his head. It looked as if the man was just protecting his head and neck from the sun, but in reality it covered his hair completely. Hopefully no one questioned his fair skin much.

Nicolo blushed a little under his ministrations, carefully not looking up. Yusuf stared at him, not understanding this reaction. Nicolo didn’t make sense. He was constantly sticking close to Yusuf as if seeking out his attention, but once he had it, he didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

Were all Genovians this strange?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all my chapters will be the same length, btw. I wanted to show Joe's point of view too real quick, hence this short chapter. But I hope to really dig in and get these two going soon. Mostly because the suspense is killing even me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I may have been caught out by my editor this morning. She realized I've been writing Old Guard fanfiction instead of focusing solely on my own projects. XDDD Oops. I didn't really expect to get away with it, not when she's just as obsessed with this pairing as I am. 
> 
> No worries, I'm still writing this story for the fun of it. And my own satisfaction.

The one upside to going west, as far as Nicolo could tell, was that at least they were out of the thrice-cursed desert.

The Fatimid Caliphate had much more geographically diverse land than Nicolo had first suspected. Jerusalem itself was in the desert section of the caliphate, according to what he had seen, but Yusuf had explained that the rest of it was either mountains or green valleys. Not like Genova, certainly, but with a life and vegetation of it’s own. And water to be found instead of frantically sought for. They were now, thank god in heaven, in the green part of the country.

Nicolo had enough of the desert experience to last a lifetime.

Yusuf had led them directly north-west in a straight bid for the coast and to the city of Ashdod. They shed jackets before they went in, removed as much military paraphernalia from sight. They were of the right age to be in the military, people would question that, but there was no helping it. As long as they weren’t obviously deserters, they could hopefully skate by.

Nicolo focused on what he could control. Right now, it would look too odd for someone foreign to be in the company of someone that clearly was native to the area. Nicolo planned to keep his head down and let Yusuf do the talking.

Honestly, if they could communicate well enough to organize a rendezvous, Nicolo would have skirted the sea port city entirely and waited for Yusuf outside. But he had no faith that he could properly understand what Yusuf said. And if, heaven forbid, someone recognized Yusuf as a deserter, Nicolo would need to help fight alongside him. Get him out.

Yusuf wouldn’t die at their hands, no. But chains would hold him just as well as before. Nicolo couldn’t imagine anything worse than being locked up indefinitely with no means to escape. He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

So of course he couldn’t wish it on Yusuf. Not that he really knew what he and Yusuf were, precisely, but not-enemies was as good a definition as any at the moment.

They got a few odd looks for not wearing jackets as they entered the city. Yusuf had his sleeves rolled up, acting as if he’d just paused in working to come into the city for something. Nicolo tried to stay as still and unobtrusive as possible. They walked, leading the horses behind them, the better to blend in with the crowd. And it was a crowd—the city obviously saw a lot of trade. Even during a war, or maybe especially because of the war. The streets weren’t wide to begin with, but with all of the traders hawking their wares, housewives shopping for food or goods, travelers trying to navigate past them all, it was bedlam. For Nicolo’s ears, that couldn’t really make out much of the language, it sounded like a never-ending wave of noise.

Thank god for Yusuf, that navigated through it all with ease. He kept glancing back, making sure that Nicolo was with him. Nicolo found those glances reassuring every time.

He stopped first at a shop that seemed to sell linens and bolts of materials, bringing out the two hare hides and trading them over. Not for coin, but a bolt of tough canvas. Nicolo had no idea what he wanted to do with that, but Yusuf apparently had a plan.

Their next stop was a clothing shop of some sort, one of used clothing. He brought Nicolo in close, measuring different jackets and shirts against his back until he found something he thought would fit right. A pair of pants, too. Then he chose something for himself, a whole outfit. Nicolo winced at the expense, but it was rather necessary. They were already getting odd looks for all the rips in their clothing. Blood-stained rips with no bandages surely looked strange.

The owner of the shop was a gap-toothed woman, bent and wizened. She gestured them into a back section of the wooden building, something that was curtained off from the rest and said something to Yusuf.

Yusuf nodded, replied respectfully, then drew Nicolo with him to the back. He put them both into the booth and gestured for Nicolo to change into the new clothes. Were they trying it all on for size?

Nicolo didn’t really care as he was heartily tired of these clothes. He’d been in them for weeks now and frankly, they could probably stand up on their own. He shed them like a snake would an old skin and pulled on the newer clothes, made of a subtle and breathable material that worked much better in this hot climate. The only thing he kept were his boots. Yusuf had been smart enough to think of socks, too.

While he changed, so did Yusuf. Nicolo didn’t know why that bothered him much. It wasn’t like modesty existed in an army of men. And it wasn’t that Yusuf was incredibly handsome—wait, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that Nicolo thought of men as handsome or not. Well, maybe he did on some level. Everyone noticed if people were beautiful or plain, right? Even people of their own sex. But it wasn’t like Nicolo was _attracted_ to handsome men. So it was fine that he looked at Yusuf and thought of him as good-looking, in his own way. There was nothing wrong with that.

Damn, the man was finely toned. How had Nicolo missed that?

Yusuf gave him an odd look. “Not fit?”

Nicolo jerked his eyes back up to the man’s face, feeling his own flush and cursing himself soundly. Pay attention, idiot. “Fits fine.” He tacked on hastily as a cover-up, “You?”

“Yes, fits. Give me that.” Yusuf pointed to his discarded clothes.

Nicolo handed them over with a sigh of relief, thankful Yusuf didn’t seem to realize Nicolo was acting strange.

Dressed, they ducked back out and Yusuf went directly to the old woman again. He handed all of their old clothes over, they haggled back and forth, then Yusuf handed her a small collection of three coins. Nicolo watched this with interest. Oh, he’d sold their old clothes to her? Nicolo thought them rather worthless in their state, but maybe the old lady could do something with them. Repair or salvage.

Either way, this didn’t cost as much as he feared. Nicolo was relieved.

They went out and to the next shop, this time for travel food, rope and larger water skins. Yusuf spent more there, but there was no helping it. They had to have enough food to bypass the rest of the cities in Israel and leave it entirely. Just this stop in civilization might be too reckless. Yet another stop, but this was for fishing gear, a cookpot, and a bucket. A few beaten metal bowls and utensils, too. Things they’d been doing without. In the middle of a battlefield, it hadn’t been something they could scavenge. Nicolo eyed the supplies with open relief, glad their immediate lives were going to improve a little.

It meant loading everything onto Nicolo’s horse, but it wasn’t like they had a pack horse to use. Nicolo assumed he would ride double with Yusuf for a while after this which might be uncomfortable. He didn’t really know how to react to Yusuf, after all.

Well, maybe riding double with the man would help settle Nicolo better. If he got used to touching Yusuf, maybe he’d stop reacting like a skittish colt around the man. Even Nicolo found his reactions to the man odd. He did not understand himself, not one iota.

And Yusuf, damn it all to hell and back, had picked up on it. He kept watching Nicolo as if waiting to see which direction the man would jump.

At least he hadn’t teased Nicolo about it. Otherwise he might have reverted to three weeks ago and skewered Yusuf for it.

Nicolo forced himself to focus as he put the last of the food sacks onto the horse, tying it to the pommel. He thought them done, that they’d leave the city quickly at this point. But Yusuf surprised him with one more stop, at a mercantile shop. He motioned for Nicolo to stay with the horses—smart, it was honestly a miracle they hadn’t seen any street thieves yet—and then ducked in. He was in and out within a minute flat, bringing with him two small, square shapes wrapped in linen and twine. He put it away in his own saddlebag before swinging up into the saddle.

Nicolo eyed the hand that he held out to him, steeling himself. Then he took that warm, roughly callused hand in his own and swung himself up behind Yusuf. And immediately couldn’t settle.

He was warm. And he didn’t precisely smell good—Nicolo didn’t either—but he smelled of male skin and sun. Nicolo breathed in, and that scent lingered, somehow trailing down and pooling deep within him. He turned his face away, shifting uncomfortably. And instead noticed other things.

They were of the same size, it wasn’t that Yusuf’s shoulders were broader. They just seemed like it. And Nicolo for the life of him didn’t know where to hold on. There didn’t seem to be a good option to put his hand anywhere.

Dammit. Nicolo balled it up and let his left hand rest on his own thigh. The right was fully occupied with leading his horse, thankfully.

Yusuf put heels to flanks, urging the horses into motion and moving them at a steady walk through the streets, heading out of the market and toward the sea. Nicolo caught the looks, saw people wonder and question, and quickly put his head down to rest on Yusuf’s shoulder, hiding his face. The head covering he still wore hid his hair and draped down, hiding the rest of his features.

Yusuf immediately stiffened and half-turned as if to look at him. “Are you well?”

Why would the man think something was wrong with him? He’d run Nicolo through multiple times, did he really think that an illness could do what he couldn’t manage? “Hiding,” Nicolo explained in a whisper.

“Eh? Ahhh. Yes, do that.” As if wanting to ease Nicolo’s worries, Yusuf assured him, “We’ll leave city soon. Hold on.”

Nicolo grunted acknowledgement and stayed put. It got a bit hot and sweltering like this, his neck wanting to cramp. And Yusuf’s scent was invading his nose again. But he stayed still as this was the safer option rather than call attention to themselves.

They rode for an endless amount of time, the sounds and smells of the city fading behind them, replaced by fresh air that smelled of brine and water and cool rocks. Nicolo dared a peek around Yusuf’s shoulders.

“Not yet,” Yusuf cautioned him.

Nicolo didn’t understand why but stayed put a bit longer. It was his ears that picked up on it, a group of men passing them, coming in from the sea. Yusuf exchanged a hello as they turned at a branch in the road, leading left onto a major highway. Nicolo dared another peek, saw the amount of people coming towards them, hearing yet more people travelling behind them also heading west. A highway didn’t seem a good idea.

“Yusuf…” he trailed off uncertainly.

“I know,” Yusuf responded, tone soothing. “Not long.”

Nicolo gave a shallow nod. “Alright.”

Really, the amount that he trusted this man was just ridiculous. If someone had told him even a month ago that he’d willingly follow an enemy through enemy territory, letting him take the lead the entire time, he’d thought them either mad or drunk. And here he was, doing precisely that.

What was it about this man that disarmed Nicolo so thoroughly? 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Update: A very nice reader corrected me and informed that Yusuf in this chapter would perform Wudu before getting into the pool. Which isn't something I was aware of beforehand but I'm happy to edit the chapter and put it in. I'm going to edit a few other chapters as well and flesh Yusuf's culture out a bit better now that I know what's lacking.

* * *

The way that Nicolo curled up trustingly at his back sent Yusuf’s instincts working overtime. And in conflicting ways, to boot. He wanted to thank the man for his trust. It was hard earned, but a gift, and Yusuf was thankful for it. He wanted to hug him (why?). He wanted to promise Nicolo that he’d never abandon him here, in this country and culture that wasn’t his own.

He wanted, strangely, to lay next to him in a shady place and just be for a while. To unwind from the stress and spend some quiet, peaceful time with Nicolo. They’d not had that since their meeting.

And he wanted to tell the man that he’d dreamed of Nicolo before ever meeting him.

Damn language barrier. Yusuf cursed it regularly and wished that every person that ever invented another language aside from his own had been born lazy and stupid. If only Nicolo didn’t speak Genovian, they wouldn’t be struggling so hard to understand each other.

Cursing things didn’t change them, sadly. And he had more immediate problems at hand. Yusuf eyed the next group travelling along the highway, heading into the city, and once again looked for a turnoff. He wanted them off the highway, near the coast. Away from people entirely. As much as he liked this display of trust on Nicolo’s part, he understood that it was uncomfortable for Nicolo. If Yusuf had to hide his face and not look where he was going, in enemy territory, he’d be climbing out of his skin in seconds.

He really wanted to embrace Nicolo for doing it without a word of complaint.

Somewhere past Ashkelon there was a small trail down to the sea, nothing more than a goat herder’s path. Overlooked by most, it would lead eventually down to a cave that had a fresh water pool. He wanted to stop there for the night as it was safe, had shelter, and would give them a fresh supply of water. Yusuf had to get them off the highway before they reached Asheklon, though. The port city there was just as large and just as busy and they’d already pushed their luck today too much as it was. He knew there was an older path, a less-used road that wound closer to the coastline. Mostly fishermen used it. His uncle had taken him through here a few times when they visited. It would be the better option right now for them although it would take a little longer, as it wound up and around multiple obstacles.

There, that was the turn-off he wanted. Yusuf took it, and the horses slowed as they started the sloping descent down towards the beach. It levelled off and went west again before hitting the sand, and slowly the roads widened until one was below the other and out of sight. Only then did Yusuf encourage, “Alright, lift your head.”

Nicolo did with a sigh of relief. He looked around with interest and asked, “New road?”

“Yes. Old highway.” Yusuf pointed ahead. “Past Ashkelon, there is a cave with water. Fresh water. We’ll stay there tonight.”

Nicolo repeated the words he understood in a questioning tone. “Ashkelon, fresh water, stay tonight?”

“Yes.” Cave he’d try to explain later. Or just wait until they arrived and then teach Nicolo the word.

They kept riding. Whatever nervous tension that held Nicolo in its grip in the city slowly relaxed. He stopped sitting behind Yusuf like a stiff plank and swayed more easily with the gelding’s gait. Yusuf was glad. Sometimes it felt like Nicolo trusted him because he had to trust him. Because circumstances didn’t give him any other choice. And that hurt Yusuf’s heart.

He wanted many things from Nicolo. Not being an enemy was only one of them.

The sun rose to high noon and then slipped over, heading back towards the horizon once again. Still, by the time Yusuf found the goat trail he was looking for, they had plenty of day left. Most of the afternoon, in fact. The horses were glad to scent fresh water, that was for sure. It was a little sparse in vegetation this close to the sandy beach but there was thick grass lining the sand, and his gelding eyed it hungrily and kept trying to snatch bites.

Yusuf patted his neck and promised, “Soon, my friend. I will let you eat your fill. We’re almost there.”

“There?” Nicolo repeated hopefully.

Really, he wasn’t sure who was more prepared for a dismount. Nicolo or the horse. Amused, Yusuf repeated for him in broken Genovian, “There soon. Ahead, see?”

It did look like heaven after traipsing through the desert. The collection of caves were small, several lengths away from the sea. It was all blue water, white sand, and the flow of a river pouring down in a small waterfall, which landed in a pool before flowing out into the ocean. Yusuf had only stopped here once before but it had been fun as a boy.

It would hopefully be the right place to relax as an adult.

When he pulled to a stop, Nicolo was quick to get off. He stuck his head inside the largest cave—which was wide enough to hold horses, gear, and two men with some room to spare—then came back out again to go and peer into the pool. It was just deep enough to cover them up to the chest and clear all the way to the bottom. Then he came back with an approving smile on his face.

He chattered something to Yusuf but all he caught was ‘good place’ and Nicolo’s delight. They stripped everything off the horses, then hobbled them so that they could go and drink and eat at their will. The horses moved steadily off toward grass and water, ignoring the men with a contented swish of their tails.

They put all supplies and saddles into the cave, near the mouth of it. It was then that Yusuf brought out the last package he’d bought and displayed it on his hand for Nicolo to see. The surprise did not disappoint. Nicolo snatched up the bar of soap and raced immediately for the pool of water.

Snickering, Yusuf let him go. He was tired of being caked in dried blood, dirt, sweat and road grime himself. He followed with two towels, which he dropped on top of a nearby rock. He found a good spot for himself and took off boots and socks, then rolled up his sleeves. He sat and started Wudu. “Bismillah.”

Nicolo turned, shirt off, head cocked.

Yusuf waved him off. He hadn’t intended to catch the other man’s attention. Nicolo shrugged and went back to stripping.

Hands went into the water, cool and lovely and Yusuf felt his soul unwind a little. He hadn’t been able to pray or do Wudu in days due to the lack of water. It was a little strange to do it now as he was a different man than the last time he’d performed Wudu. But it felt good, too, to slip back into that routine. Hands clean, he rinsed out his mouth, then nose, face, arms, wiped his head—oh dear that did not go smoothly. He could feel the knots. Grimacing, Yusuf continued regardless and cleaned his ears before finishing up with his feet.

There, that was better. Now to clean the rest of him. Yusuf finished stripping at the pool’s side, a tad slower than Nicolo. The other man beat him in, groaning in bliss as his overheated body sank into cool water.

Yusuf let out his own groan of pleasure as water lapped lovingly around his skin. He gave Nicolo some distance and started soaping up, starting with his left hip as the dried blood there had been driving him nuts for days. No matter how he scraped at it, it had gotten into his skin and it was a relief to wash it all away.

He washed twice, head to toe, then focused on scrubbing at his hair. His dark curls were feeling rebellious. They’d already been tangled and getting them wet turned them worse by the second. Perhaps he should have tried combing them out first. But his hair was so full of dried blood, dirt, and who knew what else that they’d been clumped together. He didn’t see how a comb could get through all of that.

Maybe it was time for a haircut. All Yusuf had to work with was a small, sharp knife, but better a chopped hairstyle than living with this snarled mess. Disgruntled, he turned to ask if Nicolo would help him.

Nicolo at that moment dipped down, rinsing out his own fair locks, his head going completely under the water. He lingered there for a few seconds before rising again, water streaming off his body in a clear cascade. The sun kissed his glistening skin, gilding it around the edges, even as the water clung to him.

Yusuf’s mouth went abruptly dry. He took in the sight of this man, this man he had been taught to hate and kill on sight, and the furthest thing from his mind was violence. He took in everything, his artist’s mind tracing well-defined muscle and smooth skin with a mental caress. His heart pounded at the sight and that urge to embrace Nicolo was back ten-fold.

Fuck a goat. Getting into this pool with Nicolo had been a severe miscalculation on his part. Not that he’d known that going in, but it was clear as a moon on a dark night now.

Nicolo had caught his stare and canted his head in question. He had a flush to his own cheeks and was steadily only looking up, so maybe he was also a little embarrassed by this?

No, Yusuf was projecting. This was all his own stupidity and damn his body for not knowing what it really wanted. Trying to get past his own embarrassment, he cleared his throat. “Knife?”

If nothing else, maybe Nicolo would stab him and put him out of both men’s misery for a few seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've just become aware that my updates of the other night to fix little issues (such as me using the incorrect word for a place/culture) didn't take on the first try. *headsmash* I will now re-post and try again.


	5. Chapter 5

“Knife?” Yusuf rasped. The man was watching Nicolo with a strange expression on his face as if two different emotions were warring for dominance. He looked a little dazed, somewhat confused, and strangely…hungry?

Nicolo didn’t understand Yusuf at all on most days but right now he was even more confused. And alarmed at his own body’s reaction to seeing all of Yusuf clean and with such glistening, warm, touchable skin that was _right there_ and—shit, Nicolo, focus. Focus and find a private moment later to take care of some personal business because clearly it had been too long since he’d felt a lover’s touch. Clearly.

Because Yusuf was definitely not going to be that.

Clearing his throat, Nicolo kept his eyes locked on Yusuf’s and avoided letting them slip further down. “Knife?”

Yusuf turned, putting his back to him and pointed at his own head in demonstration. “Hair knotted. Knife?”

Oh, he wanted Nicolo to cut his hair. True, the man’s curly hair was tightly wound and clumped together in a snarl. He probably did need help getting it all sorted out. Nicolo wasn’t sure how good of a job he’d do with a knife, though. He’d never cut someone else’s hair before. But he was game to try. “Sure. Wait.”

He sloshed over to where Yusuf had left his clothes piled up, pulling the small knife free of the belt sheathe, and then indicated where he wanted Yusuf to sit. There was a flat rock, right under the water’s surface, that would be the right height. Yusuf sat down, keeping his back to him.

Nicolo lifted some of the hair, getting an idea of what the situation was. It didn’t look promising. He was very afraid that he was going to shear Yusuf like a sheep. He might have held his breath before picking up the first clump and carefully sawing it off. It turned out to be a closer cut to the scalp than he anticipated and Nicolo winced. Oops. “Sorry?”

Yusuf surprised him by laughing, a deep rich sound. It was the first time he’d ever heard it and Nicolo thrilled a little. Then pressed a hand over his own heart, stilling the response. Why was he happy that he made Yusuf laugh?

“It’s fine,” Yusuf assured him, resigned but still amused. “Do it.”

Well, it was too late to back out now. Although Nicolo was going to be much more careful in the future. Otherwise it would look like the man had gotten into a fight with a scythe and lost.

Nicolo gamely went back to it, starting at the top and working his way down. It became clear fairly quickly that Yusuf’s hair was just too long. The curls wanted to tangle if Nicolo even looked at them wrong. Collar length as they were, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

Bottom lip caught between his teeth, he tried to stay consistent. At least a finger’s length on top, edging more towards a half finger’s length on the sides and the nape of the neck. Oops—damn, that was too short. Alright, it was fine, this was closer to the nape anyway. He’d just go a little shorter all around and try to blend it.

Nicolo was especially careful around the ears, not wanting to nick the man. War-hardened as they were, any draw of blood would have Yusuf’s instincts kicking in. Nicolo would end up with a hole in his throat while Yusuf was apologizing for his reflexes.

Let’s not.

Nicolo moved steadily around that dark head, focusing solely on hair and knots and teasing out bits of dried blood as he could. He was in front of Yusuf without realizing it, and then he froze. Oh. Yusuf could see everything of him, the water wasn’t at all opaque and—Nicolo drew in a shuddery breath. Stop it. Stop panicking. Yusuf had seen naked men before, they both had. There was nothing special about Nicolo’s body. Yusuf wouldn’t want to touch him or find him alluring.

He glanced down, Nicolo wasn’t sure why, and found Yusuf peering up at him from underneath dark lashes. The intensity of that look made every thought Nicolo just had feel like a lie. He locked eyes with the man, paralyzed and confused. Why was he looking at Nicolo like that?

Yusuf stared back then deliberately closed his eyes. “Done?”

“No.” Jerked back into motion, Nicolo focused on hair. Hair was so much safer just then.

He went all the way around, cutting deeper in some places. Sometimes by accident, sometimes by design as the knots went down to the scalp. By the time he was done, it didn’t look too bad. Alright, fine, it looked like Yusuf had gotten into a knife fight with an angry fishmonger. And lost.

Nicolo stepped back, handing Yusuf the knife. He gestured towards the man’s dark locks with an apologetic expression that conveyed everything. Frankly, if Yusuf decided to stab him over it, he wouldn’t blame him.

Yusuf turned his head to see in the reflection of the pool, taking it in. Then shrugged, as if it was about what he expected. “Thanks.”

Nicolo grumbled in Genovian, “You really shouldn’t be thanking me.” Switching to Arabic, he said, “I’ll get firewood.”

“Sure.”

He fled the pool with more haste than dignity, toweling dry too fast and putting on clothes that stuck to his damp skin. Nicolo didn’t care. He’d dry out soon enough.

If he had to stay in the pool much longer with a naked Yusuf, he wasn’t sure what would happen, but he doubted anything good.

They did their own thing for a few hours. Nicolo took the fishing gear, the lobster trap, and the bucket and went to the sea. He dug up worms for bait, got the lines started, then hunted for clams. The clams were huge here, larger than he’d ever seen. They made for good eating, and Nicolo was ready for something fresh to eat.

If he never ate hard tack bread, it would be too soon.

Nicolo spent the rest of the afternoon on the sea shore and came back with a decent selection of two lobsters, a bucket of clams, and four fish of some variety he didn’t recognize. All edible, he hoped.

While he’d fished, Yusuf hadn’t been idle. There was a stack of firewood from branches sitting nearby, and he’d sewn together a quick tent with a pitched roof, using the rope and canvas he’d bought in town to string it together. Nicolo had assumed they’d sleep inside the cave, but when he thought about it, the cave floor would be nothing more than pointy rock. Maybe Yusuf had a better plan, sleeping on top of loose sand instead.

Yusuf greeted him with a smile as Nicolo came in, eyeing the catch in his hands and nodding approvingly. “Good.”

Nicolo sat the bucket down, handing the fish over. Yusuf had the right knife to clean the fish with, that could be his job. Nicolo would cook up the clams and lobster.

They worked companionably to cook their dinner, not saying much to each other. It was only after everything was eaten—and absolutely everything was eaten, they were both starved for fresh fare—and things washed up, that was when the silence became oppressive. Or perhaps it felt that way to Nicolo because he had so much to say and limited ways to express it all.

He sat in front of the flames, his arms casually looped around his upright knees, and stared into the flames. How did he say this? How did he ask the many questions he had of Yusuf?

“Nicolo.”

Nicolo turned his head, meeting Yusuf’s dark eyes. Yusuf always seemed to be nearby these days, like now. Never further away than arm’s reach if they were in camp. “Yes?”

“I know you.”

What? Nicolo frowned at him in confusion.

Yusuf mimed sleeping, his hands tucked under his head. “I saw you.”

“You dreamed of me,” Nicolo breathed in understanding. He turned sharply, kneeling to face Yusuf. “I did too. I dreamed of you. When?”

Yusuf didn’t have to think about it. “Before. Before we met in battle.”

Yes, so had he. Weeks before although he hadn’t understood it. Urgently, he asked the question that had plagued him for weeks. “When was the first time? The first time you realized you healed too well?”

Frowning, Yusuf puzzled through the words he didn’t understand. “First time? Not dying?”

“Yes, that. When did it first happen?”

Yusuf gave him a comical look of ‘is he joking’ and pointed directly at him.

“When I killed you?!” Nicolo squawked. His voice hit a range it hadn’t since puberty and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Not before?”

“No.” Yusuf’s head canted, intrigued at Nicolo’s surprise. “Why?”

But it had been the same for Nicolo. He hadn’t realized it until he crossed swords with Yusuf and awoken when he shouldn’t have. But that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t like their battle had anything particularly noteworthy about it. It had been just like any other fight Nicolo had experienced. “Why us?”

Yusuf shook his head, looking frustrated. He clearly didn’t know either. “Nicolo. You dream of me. When?”

“Weeks before. When I first came to Israel.” The night before he stepped onshore, in fact. They’d not been able to unload that night, choosing to stay on board ship and wait until morning to offload. That was the first night he’d seen Yusuf in his dreams. “A woman, too. Two women together, fighting.”

Yusuf nodded, not surprised. “Yes, one tall, one short. Both dark hair.”

So he saw them too. “What does this all mean? I don’t understand it.”

Yusuf looked away, toward the sea, and didn’t answer. Then again, it wasn’t like he had the answer, any more than Nicolo did. Nicolo turned and sat with a thump. Shit. He thought he’d feel better getting that out in the open, but all it did was exchange one set of questions for another.

At least he wasn’t alone in this. Yusuf had dreamed of him, too. Whatever it was that had happened to them, it had started weeks before they met. Nicolo wasn’t sure whether to blame god, the devil, or magic at this point.

A part of Nicolo wanted to test the limits of this. Could they survive absolutely everything? What if they were burned to cinder and ash? What if they were beheaded? What if they were drawn and quartered, their limbs scattered? Would they grow new ones, or magically be pulled back together again?

But as much as he was curious, he didn’t actually want to test any of that. Dying over and over again was painful enough as it was. And testing it would mean hurting Yusuf again, or allowing Yusuf to hurt him, and Nicolo couldn’t stomach that thought.

Hell’s teeth, he still felt bad about screwing up the man’s hair.

Nicolo thought about bringing up the other thing he constantly thought about. Once they were free of Israel’s borders there wasn’t any real reason for them to stay together. Yusuf was determined to get Nicolo safely out, and Nicolo appreciated that beyond words. But they were more conspicuous staying together. It would actually be safer if they parted ways.

He looked at Yusuf, his mouth open to say those words, and they clogged immediately in his throat and died there. It would be safer, perhaps. But this was frightening enough as it was. Nicolo didn’t want to go through this alone. He didn’t like the idea of putting Yusuf in that position, either, of forcing the man to face such an uncertain future without any support. Nicolo didn’t understand what happened to them anymore than Yusuf did but at the very least, they could weather this together.

Something of this showed on Nicolo’s face. Yusuf reached out, laying a comforting hand on Nicolo’s shoulder. His eyes said, _I’ve got you._

Nicolo reached up, laying his own hand over Yusuf’s. Yusuf did have his back.

And he had Yusuf’s.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit more crack than actual story. But it was too funny not to share despite it not being really chapter length. So here it is anyway.

What was the most important word you could learn in a language? What was the first thing you needed to learn? Thank you?

No.

Please?

A good one, and also one Nicolo didn’t know.

How much?

Nope, try again.

The answer is: I’m stuck.

Nicolo wished he’d known that. Before, you know, he got himself completely wedged in this thrice-cursed, god-forsaken cave.

In hindsight, coming in here was stupid. He’d just been a bit bored and wanted to explore the area. They were still at their cave campsite, for various reasons. Yusuf had posed they fish some more, smoke fish and make jerky so they had more provisions for the road. Nicolo had agreed, as it was a sound idea. And frankly, they were both exhausted.

A strange concept, to be sure, that two beings who couldn’t suffer any physical injury could be tired to their very marrows. It was mental fatigue more than anything. After dying multiple times, fighting in a war, deserting said war, and walking around in enemy territory, Nicolo needed a few days to rest and recover from it all. So staying in this idyllic place a little longer sounded ideal to him.

Or it had, until he’d gotten it into his fool head to do a bit of spelunking.

He let his head thump back against the stone behind him. The pass between the cave walls had looked a bit narrow, granted. Nicolo had known it would be a tight fit. But it had opened up in a few steps on the other side, so he figured he could squeeze through. And when it became clear he couldn’t, he immediately tried to slide back out and somehow, impossibly, got wedged even further in.

Damn his luck. Damn it all to hell.

And now here he was, completely out of sight of the cave entrance, trying to figure out how to communicate to his companion that he was in a predicament and could use a hand. Without knowing any of the right words in Arabic. Like help. Ooh, that was another good one. Why didn’t he know help?

Damn language barrier.

Well, maybe shouting the man’s name would suffice. Nicolo did occasionally overthink things. He drew in as much breath as he could manage—it wasn’t much with the stone vise pressed against his chest—and called out loudly, “YUSUF!”

“What!” Yusuf called faintly back.

“Don’t ‘what’ me you idiot,” Nicolo grumbled. “YUSUF!”

“What!” Yusuf called back again. Not any closer than before, so clearly he wasn’t in the mood to get up and investigate.

Nicolo growled under his breath. Okay, try a different word. “Yusuf, I’m here!”

Yusuf sounded amused as he called back, “I know!”

It was a near thing, but he didn’t bash his head against the stone. It would only increase the headache he already had. Alright, think of something. What words did he know? What words did Yusuf know? “I’m here and you’re there! And I’m not there!”

Yusuf muttered something, Nicolo caught snatches of it. Something like, ‘what is this idiot on about’ or words to that affect. But it piqued his curiosity enough that he finally moved, coming towards the mouth of the cave. “Where?”

“HERE!”

“What are you doing?”

Nicolo let out a whimper of frustration. The first word he’d learn once out of this predicament was ‘stuck’ so help him god. “Not there!”

“Oh.” Yusuf finally came within sight, coming up on him steadily, slipping between the rock formations of the cave. “There you are. What are you doing?”

Nicolo gave him a plaintive look and held out his hand beseechingly.

The light finally dawned. Yusuf looked him over and asked, “Are you ealiq?”

“What?” Nicolo’s ears perked up hopefully. “What does that mean?”

“It means you can’t move.”

“Yes! Ealiq. Ealiq, Yusuf.”

Yusuf grabbed his arm and pulled, which budged Nicolo all of a finger’s width. His eyebrows shot up into his hair in surprise. “Very ealiq. How?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, just get me out of here,” Nicolo grumbled at him in Genovian.

Yusuf was trying not to laugh openly. He was very bad at it. But Nicolo forgave him for it because he latched onto Nicolo’s arm, braced a boot against the stone, and put his back into it. Nicolo winced as his skin scraped against the rock but with an almost audible pop, he came free.

With a grunt Yusuf caught him against his chest and steadied him. “No more caves for you.”

Nicolo laughed against his shoulder and for a second, let himself hug the man. “No more caves,” he agreed, smiling.

“Come on.” Yusuf ducked down, picking up the lantern Nicolo had put down, and kept hold of Nicolo’s hand as he led the way back out of the cave.

Nicolo looked down at their joined hands. Yusuf was always a bit warm, as if he carried sunlight around with him. His hand had the same sword calluses as Nicolo’s, the same raw strength. Nicolo felt a small tingle where their skin touched, radiating from fingertips to up his elbow. He’d never held hands with a man before. There wasn’t any reason to do so now. It was a straight shot to the cave’s entrance and a short distance, to boot.

He kept hold of Yusuf’s hand anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

They spent two weeks at the cave. Yusuf hadn’t planned to stay there that long. Maybe a day or two. It wasn’t until they were there that it became obvious how exhausted Nicolo was. How much he needed to rest. How Yusuf needed to rest.

Becoming immortal (or at least damn difficult to kill) and having a man’s world views suddenly change in a matter of days had taken a toll. Yusuf now questioned everything—his religion, his teachings, his purpose in life, all of it. It was the same world that it had always been but Yusuf had changed entirely. And because of that, he could no longer look at it and see the same world as before.

If he felt that way, Nicolo surely did. They didn’t speak of it—couldn’t, really. They didn’t have the words for it yet. But he could read it well enough in the shadows of those clear blue eyes. See it in the occasional tired slump of Nicolo’s shoulders.

They needed time. And they had no urgent business, no deadline to meet, so they gave themselves that time. Yusuf felt they were both a little better for it.

Certainly, they learned more about each other. More words, for one. Yusuf struck upon the idea of teaching Nicolo a song or two (mostly because sitting around a campfire every night without either a song or story was downright unnatural) and to his surprise, Nicolo had a good voice. A ready memory for melody. He picked it up easily despite the foreign words he didn’t know. And because of that, his diction improved as he learned the lyrics. Perhaps Yusuf shouldn’t be surprised by this. Music was the language of the gods, or so they said. Of course music would be the better teacher than Yusuf pounding words into that fair head.

So music they had, every song Yusuf could remember. (He might have made up a lyric here or there when his memory failed him. He had no intention of confessing such to Nicolo.)

But eventually they agreed they needed to move on. He and Nicolo had to figure out how to move forward in this world that was suddenly alien and strange. They needed to figure out how to earn a living, now that returning home was no longer an option. So they agreed to pack up and leave in the morning.

Yusuf went to bed that night, in his new tent, Nicolo sleeping next to him as always. He fell asleep with some difficulty and dreamed—not pleasant dreams. Dreams of killing, and pain, and senseless slaughter. Dreams of a blue-eyed man that appeared before him over and over, that he killed over and over. That killed him. Even as his limbs reached for a sword once more, his heart cried out in anguish. This wasn’t right. Why was he doing this? This wasn’t right.

“—uf?”

A hand, latched onto his arm. A hand that was shaking him, a bed in a place he didn’t know. Yusuf was rolling upright in a thrice, his sword in hand, striking out instinctively at whoever it was that had a hand on him.

There was a sharp, startled intake of breath, then a cry of pain and it was a voice he knew—a voice he was coming to know very well. The dream cleared from Yusuf’s vision, his mind suddenly in the waking world and he realized with a sinking sensation in his stomach that he’d just slashed Nicolo’s arm deeply.

He dropped the sword as if it were iron hot, an anguished groan of denial spilling out of his mouth. Yusuf stared in horror at the blood, and it was only a slight relief that the wound was already healing in front of his eyes. “Nicolo. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Nicolo held his hand away, keeping his clothes and bedding from getting bloody, spilling it over the sand in between their beds. The poetic irony of the sight was not lost on Yusuf.

“A dream,” Yusuf explained, voice rough. “Not you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“A bad dream,” Nicolo agreed softly. “I know. I tried to wake you from it.”

That just made it all worse. Yusuf bid him stay there, stumbled out of the tent and went immediately for the pool. He came back with a wet towel and cleaned up Nicolo’s arm with careful, gentle swipes. By the time he was done, the wound had vanished without a trace. It had been transferred to Yusuf’s heart instead.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, depressed over what he had done. Maybe he and Nicolo needed to go back to sleeping apart again. Especially with Nicolo looking at him like _that_ , as if he were confused at all of this and a touch wary of Yusuf right now.

Yusuf needed to go fall on a sword. It was the only way to improve the way this night was going.

“To you—” Nicolo stopped, studying him. Carefully, he rephrased. “I am your friend.”

Yusuf stared back at him, not understanding where this confusion came from. “Of course you are.”

“Because we’re both like this?”

Well, certainly, that was part of it but only a small part. It was Yusuf’s turn to be confused. He hurt Nicolo coming out of a nightmare and apologized for it and Nicolo was trying to determine how Yusuf really felt about him? This seemed very disconnected. And wasn’t it obvious what they were?

This confusion must have shown, as Nicolo sought to explain. “You look—” here he pantomimed and traced a heart over his own heart, then put both hands together before cracking down, a breaking motion.

“Heartbroken,” Yusuf supplied, able to read the charades by now.

“Yes, heartbroken. You look heartbroken that you hurt me. I am not your enemy? Only a friend?”

Oh. Oh is that why Nicolo was confused? No, scratch that, now Yusuf was even more confused. Did Nicolo really think all this time that Yusuf still carted around a little ill will toward him? Just how suspicious were Genovians, anyway?

Patiently, he explained it once more, hoping it got through this time. He used a common saying. “Me against my brothers. Me and my brothers against my cousins. Me and my brothers and cousins against the world. Right?”

Nicolo stared back as if Yusuf had just spouted something in Aramaic. Instead of using words that Yusuf knew that Nicolo understood.

“Wait.” Nicolo threw up a hand, staying him. “That simple? If not an enemy, then a friend? That’s all there is to you?”

Yusuf stared back, equally perplexed. Well, yes. Wasn’t that obvious? “Yes?”

Nicolo’s head fell back and he gave a groan, sounding exasperated.

“Your people?” Yusuf queried, confusion mounting. Surely they couldn’t be that different in culture, could they?

Nicolo used his hands, using a chopping motion for each section. “Family. Friends. Others. Enemies.”

Yusuf stared at the spot where ‘others’ supposedly sat. He thought he knew what that word in Genovian meant but the way Nicolo had just used it made no sense. What was this others business? “Others?”

Nicolo ticked it off on his fingers. “Not family, not friends, not enemies. Other people.”

The disconnect had finally become clear. No wonder Nicolo hadn’t known how to take Yusuf’s abrupt reversal in attitude. To him, it made no sense whatsoever. Yusuf didn’t know how you could go through life with a such a complicated world view of the people around you, but now that he saw Nicolo’s perspective, at least the man’s hesitation with Yusuf now made more sense. Well, no, it didn’t make sense. That was stretching things too far. But Nicolo’s reactions were no longer enigmatic.

“Your people,” Yusuf informed him with a shake of the head, “are strange.”

“Your people are strange,” Nicolo retorted but he did so with a wide grin on his face. He tapped a finger to the arm that was now healed. “Don’t feel bad.”

Yusuf would continue to feel bad. “Maybe don’t sleep close to me?”

Nicolo was shaking his head before he could trot the full question out. He gestured toward the bucket nearby. “Water,” his hand came and made a splaying motion as if splashing Yusuf with it. “Splash! Safer that way.”

Yes, that was a safer game plan. Yusuf nodded in agreement, smiling back. He liked it that Nicolo didn’t even want to consider sleeping further away. “Me too, if you have a bad dream?”

Making a face, Nicolo agreed, “Smart. Sleep.”

Yusuf wasn’t sure how well he would settle, but gamely laid back down to try it anyway. The sword he put at his feet, safely out of immediate reach. His eyes traced shadows on the ceiling aimlessly for several seconds. Sleep didn’t feel at all close.

A hand reached out, lightly touching his own fingers. He turned his head a little, wondering what Nicolo was about. Nicolo had his eyes firmly closed, though, and the touch remained light, almost tentative. Yusuf had the feeling that if he moved his hand, Nicolo would withdraw.

He didn’t want that. He curled his fingers around Nicolo’s hand instead. It felt grounding in a way he couldn’t explain, that connection. Reassuring. Even with his eyes closed, he knew precisely where Nicolo was.

Yusuf drew a breath in, feeling his body relaxing with that knowledge. When he breathed out, darkness sucked him back under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I spoke with two different men that understand the culture. In Islamic culture, there's enemies, and there’s friends/family. Not much in between. That's not really a concept Western culture is going to get. So of course Yusuf and Nicolo would have this interesting culture clash.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of research I'm doing on this is ridiculous. XD I am trying to stay as historically accurate as possible but I admit there's likely goofs. I keep referring to ancient maps to try and keep the geography straight. 
> 
> I did discover that the Ptolemies took over Egypt in 30 BC and, as these rulers originated from Greece, Greek became one of Egypt’s official languages, alongside Egypt’s old indigenous languages and scripts. They reigned for a while and Greek commerce has stayed pretty consistent in Egypt since. So, Greek is a trade language.

* * *

“Fisherman?”

Yusuf snorted. “No boat.”

“Trader?”

“No wares,” Yusuf pointed out.

Nicolo poked him in the side. “Be helpful.”

“Caravan guard.”

Nicolo made an assenting noise. That one was actually a decent possibility. Assuming they found a way to explain him. Nicolo would stand out like a sore thumb in Egypt.

They were riding steadily for the border and, according to Yusuf, almost there. Most of the morning they’d been riding doubled-up, Nicolo behind Yusuf. He found it easier now to be this close. It wasn’t as awkward as the first time. And after that night, when Yusuf fell back asleep holding Nicolo’s hand, things had changed. Nicolo woke up with Yusuf already bustling around the camp. He had no idea when the man had let go of him. But the memory of holding hands while they slept remained like a physical sensation in his muscle and skin.

And the memory of Yusuf’s heartbroken expression, seeing that he’d hurt Nicolo, still burned in his mind’s eye. This man really did care for him. And seeing that, Nicolo felt bad for ever doubting him in the first place.

The trust was hard won but it was solid now. It was easy to ride with his chest pressed up against Yusuf’s back, his hand resting casually on the man’s hip. It was easy to speak of the future with him, knowing that they’d spend their future together.

Now, if he could just figure out why Yusuf’s smile at him sometimes made Nicolo’s heart skip a beat, he’d be set.

“Private mercenary,” Yusuf added after a moment of thought.

Nicolo’s mind jerked back to the conversation. Now there was a good thought. If there was one thing he was confident in, it was his fighting skills. And heaven knew Yusuf wasn’t any slouch in that department either. “Good money there.”

“Yes. And they won’t question us.”

Question why the two of them were together, he meant. Mercenaries were often deserters or people on the fringe of society. They were expected to be law-breakers in some form or fashion. Yusuf and Nicolo might come across as an odd pair but no one would think much about hiring them, as long as the terms were reasonable and they could get the job done.

And it wasn’t like mercenary work was dangerous. For them.

“Mercenary,” Nicolo said decisively. 

“You sure?”

“Mercenary. Maybe caravan guard.” Nicolo gave a shrug, even though Yusuf couldn’t see it. “Whichever comes.”

“Alright.”

They kept riding. Morning wore on into afternoon and Yusuf pointed out the marker for the border. Aside from that, there was no noticeable difference between one country and another.

Nicolo thought so right until they came over a slight rise in the road and realized there was a checkpoint waiting for them. Perhaps a dozen guards, most of them looking hot and bored. There wasn’t much of a line but some merchants were queued up, telling the guards their business, showing wares. It was just as well they’d worked out a profession and cover story. It was about to be put to the test.

Yusuf joined the line as if it wasn’t anything to be worried about.

Leaning into him, Nicolo asked, “Did you know?”

“About this? Yes. It’s fine.”

From what he’d told Nicolo, his father and uncle were merchants. He’d travelled quite a bit as a child and young adult, going about on their business trips. Yusuf was familiar with the land because of it. Nicolo was frankly relieved because he would have been fumbling badly without Yusuf.

Their turn came. Nicolo pulled a blank expression over his face and looked the guards dead in the eye as if he had nothing to hide or worry about. Trying to duck away from their eyes would only draw unwanted suspicion.

The guard demanded something of them, but his accent was thick enough it gave Nicolo trouble. Name, occupation, business? He was guessing on that last one.

Yusuf answered smoothly, giving their false names over, stating they were mercenaries looking for work. Anyone hiring that they knew of?

The guard on the right, a weathered man in his late forties, gave Nicolo a dubious appraisal. Yusuf had used the Greek version of his name, Nicholas, but Nicolo was aware he didn’t really look Greek. The only way to get past the scrutiny was bluff.

He canted his head in question as if to ask the guard, was there a problem?

Mouth screwed up, the guard appraised him for another minute, then shrugged. He decided he didn’t care. He waved them along and went to the next person in line.

Yusuf urged the horses in motion and they rode placidly along. It wasn’t until they were well past the checkpoint’s stone walls that Nicolo let out a breath.

“See?” Yusuf turned his head, winking at him like he didn’t have a care in the world, the bastard. “It’s fine.”

“It’s fine,” Nicolo echoed in relief. “Let’s go to Cairo.”

They of course couldn’t make it to Cairo that day. They found a place to camp off the road for the night, taking turns standing watch. Then they were up again at first light and back on the road. Nicolo would like more time not spent on horseback, please and thank you. He’d become bowlegged at this rate.

Mid-afternoon, they came across a gruesome sight. A pair of sheep lay dead, mauled and mostly eaten in a shepherd’s field. Two men hunkered down nearby, staring at the sheep with long faces and discussing something quietly between themselves.

Nicolo eyed them, studying the damage of the sheep. That looked like a predator at work. And, possibly, work for them. “Yusuf.”

“I know,” Yusuf murmured to him. “I’m thinking the same. Let’s stop and chat.” He switched abruptly to Greek. “Hello!”

The men looked up. They were both worn thin with life, in sandals and light linen clothes. Their dusky skin was darker because of all the sun they absorbed. They lifted their hands in greeting, standing with their backs to the sheep.

Greek was a major trade language in Egypt, had been for centuries, so odds were good these men would know at least some of the language. The odds played in their favor as the shepherds responded. Nicolo, having passed through Greece a few times in his life, spoke enough of the language to barter and buy things but not much else. Hopefully Yusuf’s Greek was better.

“Hello, travelers,” the elder of the two greeted. “Harmony upon you.”

“Harmony upon you,” Yusuf returned politely. “I see there is trouble with you. What killed your sheep?”

Nicolo was inferring some of that but was proud that he more or less followed the gist.

“Lions,” the younger responded with slumping shoulders. “They’re bold at night.”

“We keep losing sheep to them. And dogs.” The older one turned to look mournfully at his dead sheep.

Yusuf gestured to the two of them. “We’re mercenaries. Hire us, we’ll take care of the lions.”

A shrewd, calculating gleam entered the old man’s eye. “You do not fear Bastet’s wrath?”

Yusuf spread his hands in an open shrug. “I am not of this land.”

Bastet? Who was Bastet?

The old man immediately started haggling. He and Yusuf threw numbers and terms at each other but Nicolo only caught one word in three. It ended with Yusuf nodding agreement and the two men spitting into their palms before slapping them together. The old man turned and gestured northward, past the fields. “My house is there. Go, my wife will feed you. Then you must hunt.”

“Our thanks.” Yusuf urged the horse back into motion and they turned off the road and cut through the field.

“Lion hunting, eh.” Nicolo rubbed at his chin and thought. “Is this anything like boar hunting?”

“You hunted boars?”

“I was young and stupid once.”

Yusuf laughed outright. “I have never hunted boars. I can’t tell you. We get coin and fed for the job.”

“That is fair.” Nicolo asked the other question plaguing him. “Bastet?”

“Goddess in this land. Over cats.” Yusuf indicated with one hand, showing the size. “Little cats. Some people afraid all cats.”

Hence why they didn’t want to hunt the lion? Only the strong or the foolhardy would think to go lion hunting. It was dangerous enough on its own, but throw the divine into the mix, Nicolo sort of understood why both shepherds hesitated. Apparently, the old man had no trouble transferring the possible wrath of his goddess onto their heads and all the danger involved to boot.

Well, no matter. Nicolo didn’t believe in the old man’s gods and a lion couldn’t kill him, so it was all fine. Better yet, he would get to eat something he didn’t have to cook which seemed like a luxury right now.

The house blended into the landscape a little, but it was easy to spot. It was made entirely out of sandstone, the walls very thick. It was a simple L-shape, with a flat roof on top with a shady area for relaxation. And meals, likely. They stopped at the low sandstone fence that led into the front yard and Yusuf called out a greeting.

“Good mistress of the house, hello!”

A woman stepped out, wiping her hands off on a kitchen rag, peering at them against the bright afternoon sun. She looked them over with caution, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Good afternoon.”

“Your husband hired us to kill the lion,” Yusuf explained to her cheerfully and with a smile. “He asks that you feed us, to give us strength, and then we will go and guard the herd.”

Her expression cleared immediately and she put a hand over her heart. “Then you are welcome. Come in. Water your horses, give them grain.” With that instruction issued, she immediately ducked back into the house, supposedly to make them something to eat.

Nicolo hopped off first, giving Yusuf room to dismount. But as he turned, Nicolo pulled him in close to murmur, “My Greek isn’t that good. I can’t understand all you say.”

Yusuf shot him a look. “Now you tell me?”

With a shrug, Nicolo apologized. “Sorry. Didn’t know we’d use it so much.”

With a roll of the eyes, Yusuf grumbled something at the heavens. “Alright. You’re mute.”

It was as sound a plan as any.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was alone most of the day with no distractions. He he he.

* * *

Their hostess was generous with the portions. Yusuf appreciated the lamb stew and flat bread she fed them, and even more the watered-down wine and flat bread she packed them for a late day snack. They wouldn’t be able to come back in for dinner. Someone had to stay and guard the herd.

Yusuf didn’t want to take turns guarding. If the lion did come upon them, it was better to face it alongside Nicolo. Bait and switch tactics were the only sensible way to hunt a lion. Doing it alone was suicidal. Yes, yes, Yusuf couldn’t die. But it would be worse to come in with bloody clothes and no wounds. Avoiding injury was just as vital as before. Just in different ways.

They chose not to ride back out, as they didn’t want the horses targeted. They both kept their hands on their sword pommels as they walked through the open pasture. Distant from the sheep, but close enough to intervene if necessary. On this open plain, with it’s slight dips and rolls, Yusuf could see most of the area in a glance. Most.

“They’ll attack at night,” Nicolo said with no segue.

“The lions? Yes, probably.”

“Long night, then.”

Yusuf grunted agreement. It probably would be. And it might turn into several long nights depending on how long it took for the lions to get used to the addition of men nearby. It hinged on how bold the beasts were.

“Teach me.”

Yusuf regarded him in exasperation. They were taking turns, now, teaching each other. Or they were in theory. Nicolo was being something of a hog. “My turn.”

Nicolo shook his head in disagreement, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “No, mine.”

“Is not,” Yusuf denied immediately. “Mine.”

“No, mine.”

Yusuf eyed him sideways. It was very tempting to grab Nicolo by the neck and haul him in, rub his knuckles against that stubborn head. Judging from that glint in those blue eyes, Nicolo knew full well he was being a brat and enjoyed ribbing Yusuf.

Two could play this game.

With a lunge, he reached for Nicolo, intending to wrestle him to the ground. But Nicolo was expecting this and he ducked far faster than Yusuf thought him capable. He spun free with a grin on his face, eyebrows waggling up and down in a truly ridiculous matter. Come and get me, that expression said.

Oh, Yusuf would get him, alright.

He lunged in again and this time he caught hold of Nicolo’s waist. The man immediately tried to put him into a headlock, stopping his advance, but he’d miscalculated. Yusuf had learned Turkish wrestling for the fun of it, a way to let go in between marching and battles. There were few rules about where you couldn’t grab an opponent in Turkish wrestling. As Nicolo was about to find out.

Yusuf plunged his hand under the waistline of Nicolo’s pants, grabbing a handful of ass. Nicolo let out a yelp of surprise, jerking in his hold as if to escape him. Yusuf capitalized on that reaction and caught a leg behind his knee, smoothly taking him down to the hard-packed earth.

Nicolo landed on his back with a grunt, then grunted again as Yusuf landed on top of him, effectively pinning him in place. They ended up staring at each other, faces barely apart, Yusuf’s hand still gripping Nicolo’s very firm buttock.

And that’s when Yusuf realized that it was he that miscalculated.

He’d wanted to not be enemies with Nicolo, and he had that. They were solidly friends now. Yusuf was grateful for that but all it had done was open another door. Sometimes he looked at Nicolo and wanted to keep the man’s kind heart all to himself. Sometimes he dreamed of turning, of reaching out to Nicolo.

Of Nicolo reaching out to him.

Sometimes he dreamed of more dangerous things—of warm skin and soft whispers. Of caresses accepted and returned.

Lying as he was on top of the man, his hand in an intimate place, it was incredibly close to some of those dreams. Yusuf stared back into wide blue eyes and found himself lost in them for a moment. Nicolo wasn’t fighting him off or wriggling to escape, just staring back with surprise. But what caught Yusuf’s attention was the flash of something hot, something hungry that crossed Nicolo’s face for just a moment.

Could he—possibly— “Nic—”

“You win.” Nicolo shoved at his chest, his eyes anywhere but Yusuf’s now. “Up. You win.”

Yusuf wanted to argue. No, go back. Back to a moment ago and tell me what that expression meant. He wanted to press the point until Nicolo either confirmed his hopes or dashed them. But Yusuf didn’t understand what those hopes really were, what he hoped for. And until he understood what he himself wanted, it wasn’t wise to demand answers he wasn’t prepared to handle.

Had Yusuf experienced sexual attraction for men before? He had, and indulged in it a time or three while in Greece. The Greeks were open about such matters and it was understood that a younger man should take an older one as a lover, the older man showing him the intimacies of lovemaking. It had been thoroughly enjoyable and taught Yusuf much about his own body and wants.

He doubted very much Nicolo had the same experience. The man was obviously confused by what his body was telling him. It would be better to give Nicolo space just then rather than push. Things were already confusing enough, Yusuf probably shouldn’t add sex into the mix just then. Especially when Yusuf wasn’t sure where his own heart stood on the matter.

So he honored Nicolo’s wishes and withdrew, standing and offering the man a hand up as if it had been a friendly wrestling match and nothing more. “My turn.”

Nicolo’s cheeks were still red but he nodded agreement. “Yes, yes, fine. Your turn.”

Cats were some of the fiercest predators in the known world. Their stalking skills, capability to ambush, and attacking ability were very hard for even an armed man to compete with.

Yusuf found this out the hard way.

He’d just turned, his eyes still adjusting to the near darkness of the night and wishing that his lantern cast a larger pool of light than it did. The herd was peacefully grazing, their steady chomp-chomp-chomp in the background. Nicolo stood at his back, watching the herd while Yusuf faced outward. They thought, standing like that, they could keep an eye open in every direction.

The lion managed to sneak up on them anyway.

Yusuf had no clue there was trouble until he saw from the corner of his eye a shadow detach itself from the ground and launch itself for the nearest sheep. Swearing, Yusuf yelled and rushed the lion, but it didn’t seem to faze it. The big cat was intent on grabbing dinner and hauling it away before it had to contend with men and their swords.

The distance was far enough away that Yusuf wasn’t sure if he could get there in time. Without thinking too hard about it, he lifted his sword over his head and threw it at the lion.

Which ducked. The sword made a swishing sound as it sailed over the lion’s head.

Well, damn. Yusuf eyed the lion with severe misgivings. Right. That could have gone better. He should have kept charging, sheep be damned.

The lion changed direction and charged him with a roar of challenge.

Lion hunting meant bait and switch, yes, but Yusuf hadn’t meant to be _unarmed_ bait.

Nicolo passed him like the wind, meeting the lion’s charge and slashing at it in an over-the-head slice. The lion’s reflexes were sharp and it jumped back before Nicolo’s sword could connect to it. 

The sword was somewhere over there, not even glinting in this dark night, and Yusuf counted it as a lost cause for the time being. He snatched at the small knife at his belt, holding it at the ready, and felt perfectly stupid doing it. Better than bare hands, though.

Nicolo wasn’t standing idly by. He swung again, dodged a swipe from deadly claws, and then closed in. The man knew no fear, Yusuf gave him that.

He beat a hand to his own breast, trying to distract the lion. If he could buy Nicolo even a second of distraction, it might be enough—

Something hard and heavy hit him roughly in the side, plowing him into the ground. Yusuf smacked into the wiry grass with a grunt of pain, then frantically twisted as he felt hot breath on his shoulder. A growl was in his ear, then sharp teeth in the join of his neck and shoulder. He gasped as white-hot pain arched through him, his free hand stabbing his little knife into fur, feeling blood gush out over his hand.

“YUSUF!” Nicolo cried in alarm.

The beast on top of him bit down harder. Yusuf couldn’t do more than gurgle around the wound in his throat.

Blackness.

“—uf! YUSUF, dammit, wake up! You’re scaring the living shit out of me, WAKE UP.”

Yusuf’s eyes sprang open on a gasp of sharp breath, his whole body seizing for a moment. The first thing he saw was Nicolo leaning over him, looking paler and more terrified than Yusuf had ever seen him. Even when he’d been running the man through, he hadn’t looked like that.

“I’m here,” Yusuf responded hoarsely. His throat still felt tender, as if the wound hadn’t fully closed yet. “Still alive.”

Nicolo sank back with a thump, eyes closing in relief.

Yusuf looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was flat on his back, still in the pasture. The sheep were far away from them now and Yusuf didn’t blame them for that. There were two bodies nearby, one just to the right of him, one further off. It didn’t make sense to his death-fogged brain. “What happened?”

“Two lions,” Nicolo answered, swiping a hand over his face. “One came in—” his hands lifted in illustration, one holding still and the other charging it, knocking it flat.

Oh. That would explain why Yusuf felt like he’d been run over. He had been. “Did I kill it?”

“Yes. Took time to die.”

Made sense. The blade was small, after all. “Other lion?”

“Other lion I killed.” Nicolo shifted up to his knees, helping Yusuf sit up, a supportive arm around his back. “Alright?”

Yusuf stayed slumped against his chest, his energy not back yet. Death took it out of a man. “A moment.”

“Sure.” Nicolo firmed his grip, keeping Yusuf steady.

Nicolo’s heartbeat was fast against his ear, still beating frantically from the fight—and likely the panic of seeing Yusuf fall. Yusuf listened to that heartbeat that told so much of what his friend felt. He considered what if their roles had been reversed? What if it had been Nicolo ambushed, Nicolo under a lion’s attack? Nicolo that wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t open his eyes for eternal moments?

Oh dear. Yusuf hadn’t meant to burden Nicolo with that fright. And it was worse for Nicolo, trapped as he was in a land where he didn’t have friends or allies, barely spoke a common language. It must have been terrifying, seeing Yusuf bloody and unresponsive like that.

He lifted a hand, holding Nicolo to him. “I won’t leave you alone. My oath upon it.”

A small, shuddery sigh escaped Nicolo’s mouth and he may have rested his head against Yusuf’s. Just for a moment. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get used to being on your back, Nicky. Joe likes you there.


	10. Chapter 10

The one upside to the lion biting Yusuf mostly in the neck was that it only tore part of his shirt and they could pass it off as the lion snagging a claw in it. There had to be an upside because it had taken about fifty years off Nicolo’s life, seeing Yusuf go down like that.

Nicolo knew that they would heal. Knew that they would likely get into many fights where one or the other of them would be seriously injured. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing Yusuf in trouble, or lying lifeless without even a breath stirring in his chest. If Nicolo ever did, they may as well dig a hole and put him into it. He’d be little better than a walking corpse.

The matron of the house took in their state, heard the story of the two lions that they’d dispatched, and tsked and fussed over them. She had them clean the blood off in the front yard, near the well, brought a fresh shirt out for Yusuf. Despite the very late hour, she had a snack of meat and dried fruits and more bread laid out for them. They fell on it like ravaging wolves. Nicolo felt like apologizing for his manners but couldn’t.

Mute. He had to remember he was mute in front of these people.

With them cleaned up and fed, she showed them a place to bed down. With such little space in the house, they ended up under the covered area of the porch, which suited Nicolo fine. It was beautiful weather outside, the temperature perfect.

Nicolo rolled into his blankets with a sigh of relief. Finally, the day was done. It felt like a decade had passed. Too much had happened.

Yusuf rolled in next to him with a grunt and then his own sigh of relief. “Allah be praised, I’m so glad to be off my feet, words cannot express it. No more lion hunting.”

Snorting, Nicolo nodded agreement. No more lion hunting sounded fine to him.

Rolling onto his side, Yusuf came in closer and dropped his voice to a whisper, “If they’ll allow it, we should skin the lions.”

He could barely see Yusuf in the darkness, as the only illumination was the moon overhead. It felt intimate like this, like they shared a secret in the darkness. He whispered back, “Skin the lions?”

“Their hides will sell well.”

Ohhhh. Now that was a good thought. Nicolo hadn’t considered it, but there would be some rich person that would pay to have a lion rug. “Cats, though?”

“Not sure our hosts will allow it,” Yusuf agreed thoughtfully. “Can’t sell cat skins to an Egyptian.”

No, he could see how that would not go over well. Well, all they could do was ask and see how their hosts took it.

That might have been his last thought before Nicolo was fast asleep. It was the clang of a bucket hitting the sides of the well that woke him and he was upright and blinking sleep from his eyes before he remembered where he was. The house, right.

The matron came up, saw that he was awake and gestured for him to come down. He shook Yusuf awake, got a grunt in return, then followed her down the stairs. She had breakfast spread out for them in the kitchen, along her table.

“Come, eat. My husband’s—in the pasture—he’s left your payment here. D—, since it was two—you—.”

Nicolo focused hard, trying to get the gist of what she was saying. Her Greek was fine. It was his that was abysmal. But he got the gist, the husband had paid them more since they killed two lions and the payment was in the bag she indicated on the table. He pocketed it with a nod and smile of thanks.

She regarded him thoughtfully. “Your—said last night you’re mute. But you—fine?”

How to answer that? Nicolo pointed to one ear and gave her a nod.

“That’s good.” She shrugged and let it be.

Yusuf came to the rescue a minute later, joining them and carrying the conversation. He asked careful questions about skinning the lions, and got the answer that as long as they didn’t do it in her house or yard, that was fine. The wife seemed to think that killing the lions wasn’t the same as the pampered house cats the Egyptians felt represented Bastet.

It would be a bloody job but it meant extra income. Nicolo felt the effort was worth it. So after breakfast, they stripped off boots and shirts, using small, sharp knives to carefully skin the two lions. Nicolo had a little experience with this, as he had hunted before. Not game this big, though.

By the time they were done, it was high noon and he was grateful that they’d taken the precaution of stripping down to pants. It was a very bloody business. It would have stained their shirts and soaked into their boots in a gruesome way. The pants would need to be immediately rinsed out or suffer that fate.

They dragged the pelts back, needing the water of the well to start a quick tanning process. It was tedious, scraping the hide, soaking it, wringing it out, then spreading it out to dry. Tedious and hard work but hopefully worth it in the end. He doused his pants with water too, with him still wearing them. In this arid heat, they would dry soon enough and right now, the dampness against his skin felt divine.

Yusuf offered to go and burn the rest of the lions, which they did. They retreated back to the house to check on their hides, soaking and wringing them before laying them out again. Then back to the pasture to check for any predators. Back and forth they went several times before ending up in the pasture, armed and ready. They stayed out there as night fell, guarding the sheep and seeing if any other lion of the pride wanted to try eating sheep that night. By dawn, nothing else had approached, not even a fly.

With a final word to the family, they packed up. Everyone agreed the lions seemed to be gone now or at least the pride wasn’t willing to tangle with them again. No reason for them to linger. Yusuf said their goodbyes and they were back on the road.

Once the house was well out of sight, Nicolo let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he could speak without looking around first. He was doubled up with Yusuf again, but that was fine. He was used to that by now.

“Nicolo.”

“Hmm?”

“You ever been to Greece?”

“A few times. With my family.”

“Ah,” Yusuf responded as if that explained a great deal.

“Why?”

Yusuf shrugged as if to say he’d just been curious.

Considering the man’s Greek, Yusuf had obviously been to the country a number of times. Yusuf apparently had been all around the Mediterranean area in his lifetime.

Nicolo pondered that. Pondered what it would be like, to have travelled that much. To have seen so many cultures, learned so many languages, met so many people. His family had vacationed different places as he grew up, or they had until the Crusades had started. But he hadn’t really soaked in those cultures, learned much of the language. He’d spent maybe a month in each place he’d visited, and he could count the number of countries he’d been in on one hand. At least, before he joined the Crusades.

If he had known more of the world, would he ever have joined? Chosen to fight? How much had ignorance played into his beliefs and convictions? Nicolo had grave doubts that everything he’d been taught was pure truth. So much of what he was now—an immortal man that kept rising from death—was against the Church’s teachings. They’d view him as a devil and try to kill him on sight. But it was wholly against Nicolo’s will. He hadn’t done anything to ask for it, or even deserve it. He was still of the opinion that this was more curse than blessing.

Still, there would be no mercy for him if caught.

And if the Church had that opinion about him, what else had they painted with the same brush? What else had they automatically condemned without understanding it?

It raised a question for Nicolo that he hadn’t asked. Hadn’t thought to ask. And was a little ashamed to admit that to himself. “Yusuf?”

“What?” Yusuf didn’t turn his head, still looking steadily at the road.

Nicolo found it a little easier to concentrate on the man’s mended shirt as he asked, “Why did you fight?”

“It was my home,” Yusuf answered simply.

Nicolo’s eyes closed in fatalistic understanding. Yusuf was just defending, that’s all he was doing. To Yusuf—likely to many people—they were just trying to expel the invaders ravaging their homes.

He let his head thump on the man’s shoulder, not sure whether to slap himself for being such an ass or figure out a worse punishment for himself. Yusuf had known all of this, had a far clearer view of the picture than he did, and still forgave Nicolo for it?

Nicolo did not deserve this man.

Sensing his turmoil, Yusuf half turned his head to glance back at him. “Alright?”

“No,” Nicolo muttered, depressed and still kicking himself for bad decision making. He’d always strove so hard to do the right thing, so how had he taken such a wrong path? And it was only now that he really put it together. “No, I’m a fucking idiot.”

Yusuf’s hand dropped down to Nicolo’s knee. “I don’t hold it against you.”

Nicolo snorted, amused despite himself. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Nicky, honey you really needed to follow through on that 'Have you been to Greece' question.


	11. Chapter 11

Yusuf wanted to sell the lion’s hides for coin, yes.

But that wasn’t the main purpose of those hides.

He didn’t tell Nicolo that, though, because he wasn’t sure if his plan would work out. It would depend on meeting the right people and that was always tricky in a foreign country. He kept his mouth shut as they went into Cairo.

The city had definitely grown since he’d last seen it, what, eight years ago now? Something like that, anyway. It almost extended over the Nile, the city sprawling out in every possible direction. Unlike most cities Yusuf travelled through, this one smelled pleasant, like sun and rushing water. It was mostly due to the habits of the Egyptians, granted. They were a people obsessed with baths. They highly believed that the cleaner you were, the closer you were to the gods and their cities reflected that belief.

The two newly minted mercenaries rode in through the new gate—obviously of new construction with the wood still raw and green, a recent addition to handle the growth of the city. No one asked much of them aside from a name, which Yusuf answered with only a slight twist on the truth. 

Cairo saw all types, every possible nationality—or did before the war started. Still, even then, there was a vast variety and they didn’t blink at hearing a foreign name. Or seeing two men of different cultures together. Nicolo and Yusuf had talked more on the ride in and decided that Nicolo needed to pretend to be Varangian this time. Or, Vikings as Nicolo called them. It was a good cover. Varangians had always been mercenaries and guards, they were responsible for most of the trade between the west and the Muslim countries, and there was no ill will between the two cultures. They were trade partners, no issue.

The language gap was solved, too. Yusuf would explain that he was trying to teach his new work partner the language as quickly as possible, so he was only allowed to use Arabic or Greek, nothing else. Nicolo had agreed to this. (Somewhat smugly. Because of course that meant he’d get ahead in their dual language lessons.)

Of course Nicolo had pointed out that he didn’t really look all that much like a Varangian. They were a tall, statuesque people. He was tall, yes, but not like _that._

Yusuf had argued that he was blond, fair of skin and fought ferociously. It was fine.

Snorting, Nicolo had chosen not to argue further.

They felt a little better with this cover story in place. It would all work out fine, Yusuf was fairly confident in that.

They arrived in Cairo mid-afternoon, plenty of time to find a seller for their furs and exchange some of their coin for local currency. They had some on them because of their last job, but Yusuf wanted more than that. And a chance to find a semi-decent place to lodge that wasn’t infested right to the rafters.

The market wasn’t hard to find, and Yusuf started there. He went into every fur trader or foreign goods merchant, asking questions. Were they looking to buy? Lion skins, two of them, what was their price? He got a feel for what things were going for after the third one as they all more or less quoted the same price to him. But it wasn’t just money he was after.

Further along the street, across from a flowing fountain that splashed and gurgled, was a more prominent store with a canvas awning jutting out of the front and a sign painted in gold and green propped up next to the door. Aison Trading. That looked promising. A Greek trader might be just the ticket.

Yusuf gestured for Nicolo to stay with the horses and stepped inside.

An assortment greeted his eyes—pots, bags of spices lined up on a shelf nearby, rugs, and—bingo, furs not native to the region. This man sold high quality goods of all types. Yusuf went directly towards the back of the large store and found a man about his age standing behind a single counter. They exchanged polite greetings although the shopkeeper made it obvious from his expression that a man as poorly dressed as Yusuf had no business buying anything at his shop.

On that, Yusuf agreed. “Honorable sir, I wonder if you might speak to me for a time. I am a mercenary and I just came off a job that required I kill two lions.”

The man’s eyebrows shot into his nonexistent hairline. “Two?”

“My companion and I,” Yusuf amended. “We both dispatched one. We skinned and tanned them. I hope to sell them here in Cairo. Do you know of one that might be interested?”

“I would certainly like to look at them.”

“Of course. May I borrow an employee to watch our horses so that my friend and I can roll them out for you?”

“I will oblige you.” The man turned and called out for someone in a commanding tone. A slap of the sandals answered him as a young boy came running immediately.

Yusuf led them outside, switching the reins to the boy’s hands. Nicolo caught on quickly and helped him pull the tanned hides down, carrying one into the store while Yusuf handled the other.

The shopkeeper watched carefully as they rolled them out for his inspection, first one, then the other. He turned them over, felt them with his hands, smelled deeply of both before standing again, satisfied. “You did well. I will wash them in a preserving fluid to finish the tanning. Assuming we can agree on price.”

Yusuf smiled at him. “What are you offering?”

The haggling was polite, but firm. Yusuf had a good idea of their value and wouldn’t shift below that. They finally agreed on something that was fair, and the shopkeeper bid them roll the hides back up as he went and counted out the coins into a purse.

As he came back, Yusuf casually mentioned to him, “We’re not under contract here, and I’ve not been in the city for some years. Is there a good inn that you can recommend?”

“There are several. I will point out the direction to you.” The shopkeeper handed over the purse, a light of speculation in his eyes. “Not under contract, you say?”

“We hope to find work in Cairo.” Yusuf held onto his smile and waited.

“You’re fierce fighters if you can kill lions.” The man’s lips pursed. “I have a shipment coming in from the coast, but the crocodiles are fierce and numerous this year. I’ve already lost some employees from the last trip and the others are hesitant to go back out.”

Yusuf made sympathetic noises. “That is understandable. They are fierce beasts.”

The shopkeeper eyed Nicolo in speculation. “Forgive me, you are?”

Nicolo had picked up enough Arabic now to be able to respond. “Nicholas. Harmony find you.”

He blinked, surprised Nicolo had answered in Arabic.

“He’s learning the language,” Yusuf explained. “I’ve forbidden him from using anything but Arabic and Greek until he can at least hold a conversation.”

“Ahh,” the shopkeeper intoned in understanding. “It’s wise to learn if you intend to work in this country. Masters, what would you charge me to help guard a caravan to the coast and back? It would be roughly a month of work.”

Yusuf did some fast calculations and named a price, higher than it should be.

The shopkeeper hummed deeply, a response that meant he didn’t like that price but was willing to haggle. “You run into my profits if I pay you that.”

“You’ll have no profits if the caravan is decimated again,” Yusuf pointed out.

“This is true, but I have a wife. Six sons. I can’t afford that.” The shopkeeper spread his hands in a poor, pitiful me manner. Quite the feat considering the wealth of goods that surrounded him in these four walls.

Yusuf pretended to buy into this. It was only polite, after all. “You were generous with your price of the lion skins—” he hadn’t been “—and I find you a good man, respectable. What can you afford? I’ll try to meet you halfway.”

And so the haggling began. They agreed on something that was actually higher than Yusuf hoped for. Which told him how bad the situation likely was. But it was fine, it wasn’t like he and Nicolo could die from this anyway. He just braced himself for a possible disaster.

They discussed times to meet, when payment would be due, and so forth. Then Yusuf ducked back out with Nicolo at his heels, gathering up horses and heading to the recommended inn.

Nicolo leaned into him a little and asked, “That went well?”

“Yes, very well. We’ll be able to eat in the foreseeable future.”

“Always good,” Nicolo agreed. Then he shot Yusuf a sardonic look. “Lion skins for coin, huh.”

Yusuf threw him a wink. Figured Nicolo would catch on. With them so new to mercenary work, they had to make a name for themselves and prove they were capable. Yusuf figured that hauling into two lion skins as proof of a kill would do the trick nicely, and it had. “We did sell them.”

Nicolo made a noise that wasn’t agreement or disagreement. 

This man would not be so easy to hoodwink. Yusuf grinned, pleased down to his toes. It was always so much more fun if his companion was mentally armed as well as physically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe is a manipulative little rat and I love him for it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note for those that aren't up on their Medieval history. So, fun fact about the European countries: They didn't believe in regular bathing. Baths happened maybe twice a year for them. Lots of people in history wrote notes about how stinky they were. In fact, the Vikings were known for 'seducing' the European women because they were the opposite. European men complained that because Viking men bathed on a weekly basis, and combed out their hair, and wore jewelry, the European women were just agog over them. They were like, "How can we possibly compete with them?"
> 
> Uh, take a bath, my dudes. 
> 
> Anyway. So bathing is something that is very foreign to Nicolo, he'd only do it out of absolute necessity. Being in Egypt is going to be quite the experience for him. As you will see. Fufufufufu.

* * *

Nicolo was done with the culture gaps. Truly, seriously, absolutely done with them.

Really.

Why the hell would a man bathe _daily?_

Wasn’t that unhealthy? For the skin?

There was a nudge at his back, pushing him forward. “Go.”

Nicolo went but with severe misgivings.

They’d found a good inn, paid for two days, thrown their tack into the room. Then they’d gone out again and Nicolo naively assumed it was for dinner. No, no. Yusuf had hit the market again in some kind of insane spree that alarmed him—they’d just gotten paid, yes, but they still had nothing in reserve.

It turned out that he didn’t spend much, but he had been looking for specific things. And those things, in turn, were what Nicolo didn’t know what to do with.

Yusuf (the bastard) cheerfully explained as he dragged Nicolo along that if he were to pretend to be a Varangian, he had to act like one. Varangians, apparently, bathed weekly. And wore jewelry and perfume and cosmetics. They were well known to be a very clean people.

Now, they were in Egypt and the Egyptians were even more fastidious. They bathed daily. As long as they were in Egypt, Nicolo would need to match the customs. So, daily baths. He had to wash hands, feet and face before and after the major meal of the day. Oh, and wear something called deodorant.

All of that sounded strange—what even was deodorant?—but fine, whatever. Nicolo had been through so many strange things in the past month that he felt like he could accommodate this country’s customs to a degree. And he did have a cover story to preserve.

It all sounded fine in theory. Nicolo wanted to stick with theory, please and thank you.

Another nudge at the back, this one more insistent. “Come on, Nicolo, water doesn’t bite.”

 _Not the issue_ , Nicolo wanted to whimper. After that first time of bathing right next to Yusuf, Nicolo swore he’d never do it again. It had stirred up feelings he didn’t know how to interpret. It had given him strange, fevered dreams of warm skin and breathless gasps of pleasure. It had made him more aware of Yusuf in a way he couldn’t define and didn’t want to explain. The idea of bathing with Yusuf again unnerved him. This could only make those strange dreams and yearnings worse.

It was a nice gesture on Yusuf’s part. Possibly. He’d sprung for a bath house instead of dragging Nicolo right into the Nile. It had stone blocks built out over the Nile, with stone benches built in zigzag patterns around the water so that patrons could lounge and relax if they so chose. Nicolo stood in the doorway to the larger pool, counting numerous men in sight, some of them carrying about wooden buckets that seemed to hold different types of soaps. It was the most foreign thing he’d seen to date.

He could outrun Yusuf, right? Right? He was a little bit faster.

As if sensing that thought, Yusuf’s hand landed on his shoulder. It looked like a friendly grip. It was a bit too firm for that.

Unless he was willing to fight Yusuf right now, to the death, while completely naked, he didn’t see any way out of this. Nicolo swallowed the whimper building in the back of his throat and trudged forward for the pool. Might as well get this over with.

The water was pleasant, at least. Nicolo was trying to spin this positively as much as possible. It was very, very strange to be naked in a group of equally naked men, in a foreign country while bathing with the man that he had strange feelings for following closely enough for their hips to brush. But the water was cool and pleasant. Focus on that, Nicolo.

Yusuf had brought one of those wooden buckets in with them and it floated nearby as Nicolo cautiously soaped up. The soaps were scented and smelled good. There, a second pleasant thing to this over-all surreal experience.

Then Yusuf’s hands landed in his hair and Nicolo nearly came out of his skin.

“Just me,” Yusuf chided him, urging him to settle back down.

 _You’re the problem!_ Nicolo wanted to shout. No, calm. Stay calm. This was another cultural difference, he was sure. Look, there were two men over there washing each other’s hair. They looked like father and son, but still. Precedence. It was fine.

Part of him observed that this did feel good. Nicolo didn’t realize that his scalp was this sensitive. And Yusuf’s fingers were gentle, the movement soothing and competent. Nicolo closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. This felt good. He might as well enjoy it.

Yusuf tipped his head back to rinse his hair, careful that no soap went into Nicolo’s eyes. Then he stepped back, finally, putting a foot of space between them. “There.”

Alright, that hadn’t been so bad. Nicolo might have overreacted in the beginning. He looked over Yusuf, saw the disarray of the man’s own hair. Yusuf hadn’t washed it yet. The words felt foreign in his mouth, but he felt he had to offer. “I can wash yours?”

Canting his head suspiciously, Yusuf contemplated him with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Do I trust you with my hair again…?”

Nicolo playfully punched him in the shoulder for that. “No knife this time.”

“Fine, fine.” Yusuf was definitely smirking as he presented his back to Nicolo.

Having his fingers in those thick, curly locks was different this time. More relaxing, for one. The curls kept trying to wrap lovingly around his fingers, and Nicolo amused himself by doing it on purpose once or twice before getting back to business. Yusuf let out a low sound and relaxed utterly, letting the polished stone side of the pool support his weight. It was nice, seeing him relax like this. Nice to know that Nicolo had done something he liked.

Just as carefully as Yusuf had, he tipped the man’s head back and carefully rinsed his hair. It took three times before he was sure all the soap was out. Those curls liked to hold onto everything, it seemed.

Then he joined Yusuf, putting his back to the side of the bath and relaxing there, letting the water gently ebb and flow around him. Alright, now that the strangeness was wearing off some, he could see how this was relaxing. Maybe Egypt was on to something here.

“See?” Yusuf playfully nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. “Baths are nice.”

“They are,” Nicolo admitted.

“So next time, you won’t fight me?”

Nicolo rolled his eyes. “No. I’ll go.”

“Good.”

He let water and time flow by in silence for a time. But there was something that Nicolo had been mulling on ever since Yusuf negotiated the caravan job. Something that hadn’t sat quite right with him. Dwelling on it didn’t help, so he decided to voice it. “Yusuf.”

“Hmm?” Yusuf still had his eyes closed, his head tilted back against the edge.

“There has to be a reason why.”

“Why what?”

Nicolo turned his head to look at him. “Why we’re like this.”

Yusuf’s eyes opened but he trained them upwards, towards the ceiling. “Yes. I think so too.”

“I think guarding caravans isn’t it.”

“We have to eat,” Yusuf pointed out.

“I know.” Nicolo struggled with how to put this into words. His vocabulary and grasp of Arabic had grown by leaps and bounds over the past month but that only meant he could barely get his point across sometimes. Or failed to say it right at all. “I joined the Crusades to do good. It wasn’t the right path. But that feeling,” he thumped his heart, “is still with me.”

Yusuf sighed gustily. “I’m so glad I stopped trying to kill you. You’re too good of a man. It would have been such a waste.”

That wasn’t an answer. Nicolo eyed him in exasperation.

A warm hand caught his under the water and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll find a path, Nicolo. The path meant for us. But for now, let’s honor our agreement and earn some money.”

It was the best possible answer for the moment. Nicolo squeezed back and returned to relaxing against the side of the pool.

Really, this bathing business wasn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Joe, you've got a clean Nicky. Now what are you going to do with him?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little sweet character development for you.

* * *

“Come on, Nicolo, it’s not that bad.” Yusuf was struggling very hard not to laugh even as he held the eyeliner up.

Nicolo was on the other side of their inn room, a bed solidly between them, and glaring at him. “No.”

“Everyone wears cosmetics here, it’s fine. When in Rome—”

“Not in Rome,” Nicolo pointed out quickly, still eyeing the makeup in Yusuf’s hand as if it was a viper that would bite him.

“Just the eyes,” Yusuf cajoled. “I won’t make you wear perfume.” The lip balm he planned to pass off as a protection against the sun.

Nicolo shook his head stubbornly. “Deodorant. That’s it.”

Hmm. How to get around this? It wasn’t like Yusuf was determined to make Nicolo observe local customs. It was more that he was trying to keep the man in character with his supposed culture. And the Varangian indulged in light cosmetics and perfumes.

Nicolo growled, a vexed sound in the back of his throat before gesturing towards the makeup. “I am—was—a priest. That’s too….”

Yusuf blinked at him in surprise. “You’re a priest?”

“Was. I left to join Crusades.” Nicolo shrugged as if this was a given.

Everything he knew of this man took a slow, lazy spin and settled into an entirely different angle. Yusuf had wondered about his innocence sometimes, of why Nicolo was so conflicted over things that any healthy boy of eighteen would have already experienced. Of course if he’d gone into the priesthood, he wouldn’t have that experience.

Yusuf wanted to chide him for not saying this before. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have teased nearly so hard—well, alright, maybe he would have. Teasing Nicolo was a true pleasure. But on top of everything else the man was surely going through, maybe the makeup was too much. Yusuf could always say that it burned Nicolo’s eyes or something, give some excuse on why he didn’t wear it.

With an apologetic gesture, he put it down on the chest of the bed. “Do you think to return?”

“To the Church? No.” Nicolo, having won the argument, dropped heavily to sit on the side of the bed. He stared fixedly at the floor, his mouth screwed up in a grimace. “I can’t.”

Yusuf gingerly settled next to him on the bed. He hadn’t meant to start this conversation but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. There was much rhetoric that both of them had been taught—that both believed to be true up until they were forced into each other’s company. He’d been struggling through some of it himself. He knew that Nicolo had as well. He didn’t want to pry, but maybe Nicolo would feel better talking his way through it. If nothing else, it would give Yusuf a better idea of what went through that head. “You can’t or don’t want to?”

Nicolo sighed gustily, still looking fixedly at the floor. “Both. I can’t because I’m immortal. They’ll think I’m a devil. And I can’t—" here he turned his head, looking straight at Yusuf “—because they taught me to hate you. And I can’t.”

Yusuf’s entire heart melted. He wanted to kiss the man soundly for saying that. “I can’t hate you either.”

A small smile graced Nicolo’s mouth before he sighed again, and it fell away. “The Church taught many things. I realize now, some were lies. Some was politics. I can’t trust what I was taught.”

Yusuf nodded in understanding as he felt the same way about his own faith’s teachings. “Do you feel your God has abandoned you?”

“I don’t know.” Here Yusuf paused and looked heavenward. “I like to think He hasn’t. You?”

Yusuf shrugged, of two minds on that himself. “I do think what I was taught, and what is truth, aren’t the same.”

“No. They aren’t the same. But we have time to learn the truth.” Nicolo’s little smile was back, an enigmatic expression. “I feel we have lots of time.”

“We do.” Yusuf wasn’t sure how else to help him through this crisis of faith considering Yusuf was struggling through his own. But he was glad to see that Nicolo was truly thinking everything over and had realized the flaws in what he had been told. The orders he'd been given. It was a step in the right direction. As for Yusuf, he was trying to do the same.

Eyeing the makeup again with that suspicious look, Nicolo reached for it before handing it over to Yusuf. “Try it.”

“You sure?”

“No.” Nicolo made a face at him.

Yusuf laughed but took the black stick. He tilted Nicolo’s face to the right angle and bid, “Hold still, close your eyes.”

Nicolo, trustingly, did just that.

In that moment, Yusuf realized this had been a terrible decision. With his fingers resting lightly on Nicolo’s chin, and that innocent trust on his face, it made Yusuf’s lust curl like a cobra, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. He thought about how he’d have to do this every morning—as Nicolo couldn’t see his own face, of course Yusuf would have to do it. He thought of what it would be like to see this expression, to have this innocence so close, to be within kissing distance. Every morning.

Nicolo would end up trying to kill him again. That much was certain. Because Yusuf didn’t see how he could possibly control himself for long.

In a second, he devised a plan. He drew on a single line along the lashes, made sure to do a ham-fisted job of it. Then he pulled back with a mock-grimace. “Looks terrible.”

“Does it?” Nicolo lifted a hand towards his eyes that never quite touched.

“Truly,” Yusuf assured him, already reaching for a towel. “I’ll wipe it off.”

“No makeup for me.” Nicolo was both smug and relieved by this.

“No,” Yusuf agreed ruefully. “No makeup for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicky, darling Nicky, I need you to put it together that Joe is hot for you, okay? You're killing me here, Smalls.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered today that Netflix did a short behind the scenes history of all the characters for TOG. It is awesome, I've never seen anyone do this before. Youtube it! I'll post the link if you guys need me to.

* * *

Nicolo eyed the bathhouse longingly as they passed it. It would be a month at least until he saw it again and already he missed it.

Yusuf caught his reaction and snickered. “I’ve created a monster.”

He shrugged agreement, a little amused at even himself. It was just so bloody hot out here, and the bath houses were cool, the water pleasant. And clean skin was a novelty that was quickly growing on him. Now that Nicolo understood that cleanliness really did promote health (instead of the opposite), he was all for it. It was relaxing, floating in a body of water, if nothing else. “You have.”

“We’ll treat ourselves when we’re back,” Yusuf promised him.

“Holding you to that,” Nicolo warned. That wasn’t a promise he was likely to forget.

Yusuf flapped a hand as if to say, fine, fine.

They were on their way to meet up with the merchant and the rest of the caravan. Nicolo felt better about going out now than he had before and it was mostly due to the conversation he had with Yusuf yesterday afternoon. Sitting there, speaking of his doubts, had felt a little uncomfortable at the time. But freeing, too, to get them out into the open. And having Yusuf sit there and speak with him calmly, to look into that face and see the patience and understanding reflected back at him—that had been a gift. Nicolo knew that Yusuf had his own doubts that he wrestled with. But knowing that and hearing Yusuf say as much were two different things.

Nicolo had known he could trust Yusuf before entering Cairo. Now he knew he could confide in the man, too, and that made all the difference in the world.

After sleeping on it, he’d made the decision to not trust in what he had been taught. To instead trust his own heart and instincts. If something didn’t feel right to him, odds were, it wasn’t. It would be hard to parse through what he actually felt and what he had been indoctrinated with, but as Nicolo observed earlier, he had time. He and Yusuf had all the time in the world. He’d start with what was in front of him, let experience be his teacher.

Aison the shopkeeper lifted his hand in greeting as they approached the store front. “There you are. In good time. Meet the foreman of the caravan. This is Barak. Barak, Yusuf and Nicholas.”

Barak offered greetings to both of them politely, taking in their measure and the horses behind them. “You’ll ride?”

“Easier to see on top horseback,” Yusuf explained.

“Ah. True enough.” Barak launched into a quick explanation of things and that’s when Nicholas lost him. His Arabic was fine, not even heavily accented, but Nicholas didn’t know all the words. He picked up the idea of regular campsites, a known route, but not much else.

But Yusuf nodded, not seemingly puzzled or disturbed by anything although he frowned once. He followed Barak readily as the man led the way to the back of the store, where the caravan was forming up in the back alley.

Nicolo tugged at Yusuf’s shirt and asked, “Any danger?”

“Crocodiles, maybe bandits.” Yusuf shrugged as if to say, as expected.

Ah, that was the question he meant to ask earlier and forgot to. “What are crocodiles?”

Yusuf stopped dead and looked at him incredulously. Then understanding crossed his face, quickly followed by a sigh. “Nico, crocodiles are mean. Don’t get close. Don’t let it get close.”

This didn’t sound promising. “Um, why?”

Yusuf grabbed his arm and had him hold it out. Then he mimed the motion of his own arms coming over like the jaws of an angry beast, snapping closed and pulling Nicolo sharply forward. “Death-roll. Into the river. You’ll drown and it will be hard for me to come after you.”

“Oh,” Nicolo said faintly. That did sound perfectly terrible. No wonder the locals spoke of crocodiles with such fear, then. And they were to fight such beasts?

“I’ll point them out to you.” Yusuf patted him on the shoulder.

Thinking about it, he had to question, “Why Nico?”

“Nicolo. Nicholas.” Yusuf weighed each name in either hand as if on a scale. “I’m sure to say the wrong one. Nico. It’s fine?”

That was fair. Nicolo was getting a bit confused on which one he was supposed to respond to, for that matter. And Nico had been what his family called him, growing up, so he was accustomed to answering to it. “Sure.”

Barak stood on the back of one of the wagons to get the right height to see everyone. Nicolo studied it in interest as it was of a different design that any European wagon. These were much shorter, a box that rested on two wheels instead of four and pulled by a brace of oxen. He imagined they were much more maneuverable even if they couldn’t carry as much.

But then, they might need to be if they were outrunning crocodiles.

“Everyone here?” Barak did a headcount, Nicolo doing the same as he wanted to know how many people he had to protect. A dozen was his count, not including himself and Yusuf. Barak gave a nod of satisfaction. “Good. As you can see, we have two mercenaries. Yusuf and Nicholas. They’ll take us there and back. Call them for help. The lion skins we’re taking? They’re the ones that brought them in.”

The caravan members oohed, audibly impressed and openly relieved at this proof of skill. Those lion skins were turning into quite the resume. Nicolo shot Yusuf a sardonic look. As this man had known very well.

“Let’s roll out. We’ll stop at the usual spots.” Barak hopped off, his piece said.

Nicolo smoothly mounted, gathering up reins and heading out at a steady walk. He took up the rear of the caravan, Yusuf pulling ahead to guard the front. Between the two of them, they should be able to spot any trouble before it came.

The driver of the wagon near him chattered something to him. Nicolo shook his head helplessly as he had no chance of untangling that. “I’m sorry. Do you speak Arabic?”

The driver gave him an odd look and repeated it in Arabic. “I do. I said my name is Orestes. You’re not Greek, then?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I suppose my name confused you?”

“It did. But now that I look at you, you don’t look Greek.”

“I’m Norse.”

Orestes’ expression cleared immediately. “Oh, a Viking, sure. Have you been in Egypt before?”

“No, first time.”

“What about your friend, Yusuf?”

“He’s been here many times.”

Orestes gave him a smile that looked just a little mocking. “Well. You’re in for an adventure.”

Nicolo would prefer to not have this adventure. Wasn’t it Yusuf’s turn for an adventure? He felt like it was. He’d have to bring this up with Yusuf.

Right after he managed to get his arm out of the crocodile’s mouth.

He tugged fruitlessly at his arm, wondering seriously if a detached limb would grow back. Without evidence of it, he wasn’t willing to cut off his arm to escape. That seemed like a poor life decision. Yusuf was yelling at him in alarm, an instruction of some sort, but Nicolo was having a hard time understanding him over the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears and the growls this over-grown lizard was making. Something about not getting dragged into the water, which was fine in theory but Nicolo had no idea how to accomplish that.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to roll onto his side even as he was dragged, getting his hand around the knife on his belt and yanking it free. His sword he’d dropped over there somewhere, that was a lost cause for the moment. The knife he got up and he slashed at the sides of those protruding eyes.

And scored a hit.

The crocodile let out a roar of pain, its mouth opening instinctively. Nicolo kicked at its side, planting a knee and getting the leverage he needed to roll free. He barely managed it, panting and scrambling up to his knees when Yusuf blazed past him and drove a sword right into the crocodile’s skull.

It sank down and died in a death rattle that may have been reminiscent of the jaws of hell opening. Or Nicolo could be projecting, who knew?

Yusuf yanked his sword free and gave Nicolo a careful once-over. No doubt looking for injuries. And Nicolo’s arms were punctured with holes, his arm wrenched, but those were all healing quickly. He lay on the grassy bank of the river and gave Yusuf a nod of thanks. Also of assurance that he was fine.

Reassured, Yusuf went back to his default. Teasing. “You were that curious about the death roll, huh. Had to try it for yourself.”

“Shut up,” Nicolo panted, letting the earth hold him up for a while. “You didn’t tell me how _fast_ they are.”

“You’re supposed to be faster, knight.”

Nicolo gestured rudely. Yusuf just threw his head back on a laugh.

In hindsight, the moment of error was clear. He’d been guarding the caravan while they stopped for a water break, and since the river seemed to be the home of the crocodiles, he’d been on the lookout. At the first shout of alarm, he’d immediately jumped in to protect the driver, but he’d misjudged the distance. Poorly. The crocodile had been on him before he’d realized his error or could correct it.

It was official. He hated crocodiles.

Barak hurried over and asked anxiously, “It’s dead?”

“Very dead,” Yusuf assured him cheerfully.

Barak turned to Nicolo, still sprawled out on the grass. “Are you hurt?”

Not anymore. Just holes in his shirt. Nicolo shook his head and rolled up to his feet. “I’m fine. Bruises.”

Barak put a hand over his heart. “Thank the gods. We normally don’t have this much trouble so close to town. It’s a bad sign for this journey.”

“We’ll keep a closer lookout,” Yusuf promised him.

Nicolo was with Barak on this one. This did not bode well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't figured this out, I'm with Joe. Teasing Nicky is fun.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More history for you! The first real, organized force of the Crusade Knights that hit Israel did so in the fall of 1096. Which is the only sane way to fight in a desert, let me tell you. Fight during the winter. 
> 
> But that means that at the time of this chapter, it's likely heading into winter. The Encyclopedia Britannica informs me: Egypt has what could be called a winter season, which occurs from November to March, when the daily maximum temperature in Cairo is 68 to 75 °F (20 to 24 °C) and the night minimum is about 50 °F (10 °C).
> 
> So it does get semi cold at night. FYI.

Six crocodile attacks in two days was excessive. Yusuf wasn’t complaining, per se, just surprised. He’d never seen crocodiles be this consistently ferocious. Had this year been a bad one, somehow? It certainly didn’t look like it. Everything seemed to be green and the Nile was high.

The one upside to it was that it gave he and Nicolo plenty of practice in fighting together. They’d only done that twice before this trip. It was different, fighting side by side with someone verses against them. He had to adapt to the wildly different sword style that Nicolo used, the man’s approach and pace. Nicolo was adapting to his, learning how much space to give Yusuf’s wide, sweeping movements. By the sixth crocodile, they’d killed it so efficiently that it had brought a proud smile to Nicolo’s face.

The practice was good, certainly, but it made them all more cautious. Normally the caravan camped semi near the river, as of course they needed fresh water for cooking and bathing. But this night, they skipped past their usual camping spot and went further off the road, giving themselves distance from the Nile. It made doing Wudu and prayers a little harder but Yusuf certainly didn’t blame them for it.

They were all taking turns standing guard now, with he and Nicolo switching off at the witching hour. Nicolo slept first, and it wasn’t Yusuf’s imagination that he slept closer than he had before. Every stir of breath was a warm gust of air against Yusuf’s hips. Yusuf encouraged this because if something did happen, he wanted Nicolo readily at hand.

And, well, he liked watching the man sleep.

This was the third night and while it looked peaceful on the surface, no one was resting all that well. Partially because the river was closer than anyone had wanted and no one was happy about it. Partially because it was colder that night than comfortable. Most of the time, Egypt was warm and didn’t vary much in temperature. But in the winter months—and they were quickly heading into those—it did drop at night, sometimes sharply and became just this side of uncomfortable.

Nicolo apparently felt the difference as he was tucked right up against Yusuf’s legs, an arm around him and the blanket pulled up to his chin. The body heat kept them both warm. Yusuf found it utterly endearing its just that he had this urge. This tiny little desire to stroke his hand through that soft, fair hair. Which would only wake Nicolo up and probably tip his hand to boot. Better not.

But explain that to Yusuf’s twitching hand.

“Yusuf.”

He turned to Barak with relief, glad for the distraction. “Something wrong?”

“No, thought I’d keep you company. I’m having a hard time sleeping tonight.” Barak sank down next to him, resting easily on his haunches. He’d gone a little native at some point, his head smooth of hair. Either that or he was one of those unfortunate men that had lost it all early. He rubbed his hand briefly over his head, looking out toward the Nile. “Looks peaceful.”

“Always does before trouble breaks out,” Yusuf noted placidly.

Barak snorted wry agreement. “I’m glad you and Nicholas are with us this trip. We’d have lost people by now if not for you. Will you winter in Cairo?”

“Maybe,” Yusuf said noncommittally. “Depends if we can find work there.”

“Ah, yes. I should have expected that. I’m surprised you two are out here working alone, honestly. Usually the Varangians go about in groups. How did you two meet?”

Now, how to answer that? “We got into a stupid fight.”

Barak laughed softly. “Now that sounds about right. And after you picked yourselves up?”

“We decided we had a better reason to stop. We’ve been travelling together ever since.” A vast oversimplification of their story but Yusuf had no desire to get into it. “He’s never really been this far from home before. He’s reeling from all the cultural differences. Be patient with him.”

“He’s a kind man, very patient and polite. I’m happy he’s here and learning more about the world.” Barak waved a hand between the two of them. “So the two of you aren’t…?”

Yusuf knew what he was implying and shook his head. “No.”

Barak eyed him dubiously. “Really? With the way you look at him?”

He gave another noncommittal shrug. Yusuf was attracted, yes, but considering their circumstances he wasn’t going to push for anything. Not until they had themselves sorted and Yusuf could figure out what he wanted from this man. This sweet, gentle-natured once-priest-turned-knight that had first been his enemy and now his most staunch ally. There was too much between them that was transitioning. Yusuf himself wasn’t sure how he wanted their relationship to mature.

It was easy to be rational about it in his mind. But the body had a different perspective on matters. A very loud, demanding, yearning perspective that Yusuf had a hard time keeping a lid on.

Maybe when they reached their destination, Yusuf should find a brothel. Not that he had the money to indulge like that.

Yusuf rolled his eyes at himself. Sure, it was the money preventing him from even thinking about it. Nice try, there. And what other lies would we tell ourselves this evening, hmmm?

“If you are, it’s fine by me. Fine by all of us. So don’t hold back on our accounts.” Barak slapped a hand against his shoulder. “I’ll try to sleep again. We have a long trip still ahead of us.”

“Sure, sleep well.” Yusuf turned his head to watch him go.

Barak paused as if considering, then reconsidering something before looking back over his shoulder. “And Yusuf? He watches you too. The same way.”

Yusuf’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “You’re jesting.”

With a smile and shake of the head, Barak waved goodnight and retreated back to his own bedroll.

Nicolo watched him too in the same way? He turned his eyes down to the man still sleeping cuddled up against him. It was true, this behavior of his wasn’t normal for a man. Yusuf hadn’t read too much into it as he had watched Nicolo walk right into someone’s personal space as if it was as natural as breathing. The Genovians didn’t seem to understand personal boundaries all that well. He’d seen Nicolo’s approach as a sign of the man’s growing trust and friendship and hadn’t looked any deeper.

But if Barack was right…well, now. Wasn’t that hopeful.

Yusuf decided to sharpen his eyes and see for himself if Barak was right. Nicolo was still working through some serious issues, so he could be staring for entirely different reasons and Barak had mistaken it for an amorous look. Yusuf knew that same-sex attraction wasn’t something that Nicolo’s culture or religion encouraged. And Nicolo had been a priest, for Allah’s sake, giving up on love and sex entirely. Overcoming that would be a huge mental hurdle even if Nicolo was interested.

Yusuf found himself praying that he would be interested. Please and thank you.

Midnight came and he decided to test the waters. He didn’t shake Nicolo awake but instead carded his fingers through that thick, luxurious hair. “Nico?”

Nico blinked up at him with a sleepy, trusting expression. “Hmm? Oh, my watch?”

“Yes. It’s been quiet so far.”

“Good.” Nicolo sat up with a yawn, stretching both arms over his head.

As he sat up, Yusuf slid down, arranging himself in a way that mirrored the position that Nicolo had just left. He wasn’t shy at all about tucking his forehead in to rest against Nicolo’s hip or throwing an arm across his thighs. He kept his ear trained on Nicolo, waiting for any sign of unease.

None came. Nicolo tugged the blanket up over Yusuf’s back, smoothing it down to keep out any wafts of cool night air. His hand settled on Yusuf’s shoulder, keeping him in close.

Damn. He’d overthought things. Yusuf should have stroked Nicolo’s hair after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Joe, stroke Nicky.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably just one chapter tonight. I was working on blurbs earlier and blurb writing drains the brain. Seriously, no amount of chocolate could compensate. 
> 
> I had a request to share the link for the Old Guard history video Netflix did. That's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khCUVWqW9BU 
> 
> This chapter is basically the equivalent of me taking a clue by four and beating Nicky over the head with it.

* * *

Nicolo’s list of Things That No Longer Made Sense was ever-growing and now threatened to go past the length of his body and trail behind him like a lady’s train. With being in a foreign country, it would only get worse before it got better, but it was also giving Nicolo a headache.

This morning they were riding into their destination of Port Said. The city was well within sight, and they were no longer near the Nile, so the threat of crocodiles was gone. And bandits, too. For the first time in this trip, Nicolo could relax and just ride. It gave him several hours to think even as the scent of salt and water and fresh coastal air gradually grew stronger, sweeping over his face.

Thinking without any interruptions was a rare thing. Nicolo took advantage of it. He was determined to sort out at least one thing and come to terms with it today. He figured the best thing to start with was the thing that bothered him the most.

Namely, how did he handle this strange turn life had taken?

Nicolo had gone into the church at the tender age of twelve. It was his father’s decision and his father’s doing. He hadn’t minded it, though. Serving others had suited his nature well and life in the monastery had been peaceful. He’d been educated there and felt himself blessed that he could read books. It wasn’t something that many men had the opportunity to do. But as much as that quiet life was nice, it never really…satisfied him.

That might be why, when the Crusades were announced and they called for volunteers, Nicolo was so quick to sign up. He wanted to _move_. He wanted to proactively help instead of sit there and pray.

But that call to action had been the wrong one and here he was, directionless. Not having a direction bothered him. Nicolo liked purpose, a cause he could dedicate himself to. He still wanted to help the world not be quite so evil, if he possibly could. Granted, his life had taken a sharp twist in a very unexpected direction.

He looked ahead, at the man that rode ahead of him. Nicolo did not for one second believe that meeting Yusuf was accidental. Two men, both of them suddenly immortal, meeting on that chaotic battlefield by sheer happenstance? Please, as if that was possible. No, they’d met for a purpose. What that purpose was, Nicolo didn’t know.

But this he did know. Meeting Yusuf was important. Nicolo knew their fates were tied together now and as strange as this new life was, as uncertain as the future stretched out in front of them, he found that he didn’t mind that. Spending the rest of his life at this man’s side wouldn’t be a hardship. Yusuf was all that a man should be. He was kind, and brave, and gentle. He was a reassuring word in Nicolo’s ear when he needed it, a hand pulling him up to his feet, and a sharp sword guarding his back. With every passing day, Nicolo’s affection for this amazing man grew just a bit more.

Nicolo could not look at Yusuf and think that being in this man’s company was a punishment. That their paths crossing was a mistake. He could never think that. Perhaps Nicolo had done something in his life to deserve being cursed but Yusuf hadn’t. He was too good of a man to deserve any sort of punishment.

The sun kissed Yusuf’s skin, gilding it around the edges for a moment, throwing sparkles of light in the curls of his dark hair. He turned his head, facing the driver for a moment, then threw his head back in a laugh. The warmth and happiness of that sound lightened Nicolo’s own heart and he smiled reflexively. Yusuf was beautiful like this, happy and relaxed with the wind caressing him playfully, stirring through his hair.

And here was his second issue.

Nicolo sighed, shoulders slumping for a moment. This was the other thing he really had to come to terms with. He’d thought now for weeks that the only reason why he noticed Yusuf was because it was survival instincts. First the man was an enemy, of course he had to keep an eye on him. Then he became a friend, and of course Nicolo had to keep an eye out for him—to keep him safe and keep track of him.

They were pretty justifications, both of those reasons. Not a lie, as there was a grain of truth in them, but not the real reason.

Nicolo watched Yusuf because he liked to watch Yusuf. And that’s all there was to it.

He firmly believed that he and Yusuf were meant to be together. As comrades, friends, or…something more intimate, he couldn’t decide. Those decisions used to be easy for him, figuring out how a person was meant to slot into his life. With the restrictions the Church imposed on him, and the own vows he had taken, it had made life easier. With his vows now broken, his very nature altered, all of those restrictions and rules had been thrown by the wayside.

Now, it was a different question he had to ask himself. What did he want to be to Yusuf? What did he want Yusuf to be to him? And by asking that question, anything could be the answer, as there were limitless possibilities. But what did he want?

A sudden, tactile memory sprang to mind of last night. Yusuf had leaned over him a little, sweeping his fingers through Nicolo’s hair, his voice warm and intimate as it stirred the night air as he called Nicolo’s name.

That feeling came back, like a hook was sitting low in Nicolo’s gut and pulling him directly forward—toward Yusuf.

 _Don’t lie to yourself_ , _Nicolo di Genova,_ he chided mentally. He knew precisely what it meant. A priest he’d been, yes, but he wasn’t blind to lust or passion or need. Not that his desire to keep Yusuf close could be so easily explained. Alright, fine, it played into it but he wanted Yusuf nearby just for the man’s excellent company and silly humor too.

Nicolo blew out a noisy breath. Was he any closer to an answer than when he’d started?

The driver near him, Sethos, looked over. “Something wrong, Nicholas?”

Nicolo threw him a twisted smile. “Thinking is dangerous.”

Sethos was a married man with three children and a penchant for sweets that left him a little rounder than most. He’d proven to be a good conversationalist and a patient teacher as he helped Nicolo learn both Arabic and Greek. His ready smile winked out. “Thinking of women, or men?”

Now there was an interesting question. Nicolo had realized that the Greeks didn’t view same-sex relations as any sort of sin but it had been a sort of intellectual awareness. It seemed far removed and not something that he’d absorbed or focused on. Until this moment, when he found himself thinking of things he’d been taught was a sin. “Is there no difference in Greece? Lovers of men, I mean.”

Sethos thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. The older men take the younger to show them the ways of love. It’s healthier that way. Men are expected to take a wife, have children, but some never do. It’s fine. Our gods take male lovers all the time. And female. If they don’t see a problem, why should we?”

Nicolo had to infer some of that but he’d caught most of it. His language skills were definitely improving. Not enough that he didn’t struggle to phrase the next question, though. Or maybe he just found it hard to put into words at all. “And no one forces them to take a wife? Or thinks ill of them?”

With a shake of the head, Sethos replied, “Some do but that’s because they want children to carry the family line. Me, I think forcing a man to act against his heart only break’s a man’s heart. It doesn’t do any good.”

Nicolo took that advice in, turned it over in his mind. Acting contrary to his heart, eh? He had to admit, it did feel that way. That by only focusing on what he and Yusuf were now, that he opened himself up to heartbreak. His eyes came up to look at Yusuf once more. The idea of leaving Yusuf’s side open so that the man could look for another to share his life and bed did not sit well with Nicolo.

In fact, it felt like a bed of hot coals had just been poured into his stomach.

“I don’t think—will do you any good there.”

Nicolo shook his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, repeat?”

“Waiting,” Sethos rephrased. “Not moving toward him will only lose the timing. Love is timing, my young friend. You shouldn’t wait.”

Nicolo stared back at him, a little aghast. “I’m not that obvious.”

Sethos barked out a laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.”

He wanted to growl out a denial but it was a stupid thing to try for. He and Sethos both knew that. Nicolo carefully didn’t look at Yusuf again. “But love between two men, it’s different?”

“What difference?” Sethos countered easily. “It’s one person in love with another. Two hearts still beating for each other. What can be different?”

Well now, that was a whole new perspective.

Come to think of it…Nicolo’s head cocked as he felt two teachings collide in his head. He’d been taught that love came from God. Sure, that was fine. But if two people of the same sex could love each other, then wasn’t that also of God? Why was it considered a sin?

He frowned as he ran those two thoughts through his head again. No, the hypocrisy was clear. Nicolo had struggled with hypocrisy before because of how his fellow knights had acted. With the way they had raped, pillaged, and delighted in murder, he couldn’t feel that some of them were good men. Some had been, some hadn’t. But all knights had been promised immediate access to heaven if they fought under the Crusader’s flag. That hadn’t sat well with him while he still served. It didn’t sit well with him now.

Just as this no longer sat well with him. If love was of God, then _all_ love must be.

Now, why hadn’t he seen that before? Really, did it take a journey like this for him to open his eyes to the obvious? And here Nicolo had thought himself an intelligent man. He snorted at himself, amused. Some intelligence.

His mind circled back to the original question. So if he and Yusuf were destined to meet, then what were they meant to be? Or was their meeting the only thing destined and it was up to Nicolo to decide the rest?

“Don’t take too long,” Sethos cautioned as if he could read every thought off of Nicolo’s face. “That’s a fine man. Someone will snatch him up if you don’t.”

“Yes,” Nicolo sighed, smile rueful. “I’m aware.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Joe, he's primed. Jump him.


	17. Chapter 17

What to do, what to do. Nicolo glanced out of the door at the sky that pitched and rumbled and threatened to drench them at any moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen clouds that dark before.

The storm had rolled in quickly, almost too fast to be believed. They’d reached their destination of the docks but then had to reverse quickly and get under cover at an inn before they could be drenched. The storm hadn’t hit yet, but it smelled strongly of rain and the air was rich with that heavy feeling right before the skies opened. Nicolo gave it a candle’s mark, if that.

But with them stuck inside until morning, it did rather leave them at loose ends. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself to while away the time.

Nicolo turned from the open door, thinking to find Yusuf and see if the man had any ideas but as he turned, he saw something that caught his attention. The inn they were in was large, meant to hold caravans like theirs and the main room seemed to stretch in every direction. In the far corner, under lamplight, sat a group of women around a table. They were of every age from grandmother to young girl and all of them had something in their hands that they mended, chattering to each other as they worked.

Sewing wasn’t a skill that Nicolo had ever been taught or thought to learn. But this immortality business had proven to be rough on clothes. He glanced down at his sleeve with all of its rips and grimaced. They couldn’t afford to just keep buying clothes every time something ripped. And at the rate he was going, his clothes would be more rips than material and wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

He had time. And the need. Let’s put both to good use and pick up a skill.

With his most disarming smile, he approached the table. Some of the women paused and looked up at him in askance. He gave them a polite nod. “Hello. I have tears.” He lifted his arm in illustration.

The grandmother looked resigned. “You want us to mend it for you?”

“No, honorable grandmother,” he denied, upping his smile. “I want to learn. Teach me?”

The women all stopped dead and looked up at him incredulously. Nicolo eyed them back, not sure what to do about this reaction. Had he just committed some faux pas?

A slow smile took over the grandmother’s face. “You want to learn? Then sit, and learn. Ahit, give him a needle.”

They made room for him, scooting in closer together and Nicolo took a chair. The grandmother sat next to him and she tugged at his shirt sleeve. “Take it off. Can’t mend it on.”

Oh, probably not. Nicolo was a bit shy about just stripping in front of these women but none of them seemed to mind. Shrugging, he stood again long enough to whip the shirt off, then reclaimed his seat.

“Good. Now, you thread a needle like this.”

Nicolo paid strict attention and mimicked her as he threaded a needle and tied a knot at the end of the thread. She had him flip the shirt inside out—why?—before pinching the fabric together and putting in careful stitches. His first ones were too large, she informed him, you needed five stitches the width of a thumbnail. Nicolo took those stitches out and tried again.

The others at the table seemed amused that a man sat and sewed with him but they liked it, too. They smiled at him often and didn’t poke fun. When his first mended tear was passed off by the grandmother, he started in on the second.

“You live in Egypt?” Grandmother asked, her fingers deft as they pulled a needle steadily through the cloth.

“No, I’m a mercenary. A Varangian. My partner and I guard a caravan. That’s why I’m here.” Nicolo was proud of himself for saying all of that without tripping.

Grandmother shot him a considering look under her dark lashes. “How did you get the tears in your shirt?”

“A crocodile.” Nicolo made a face. “I don’t like crocodiles.”

Grandmother chuckled a little. “None of us do. Why mend when you can buy new?”

“This was new shirt,” Nicolo informed her dryly.

The whole table laughed at that. The matron sitting across from him stopped sewing for a moment to look up at him and say, “You’re too rough on clothes.”

“I know it.” Nicolo shrugged as he had no defense to that.

The women fell back to talking like they had been before he joined in. Nicolo listened intently even as he carefully pulled a needle through the fabric. Listening, he had discovered, helped immensely in learning a language. When it was no longer meaningless sounds in his ears and he could detect words, that’s when he knew his ears were trained to parse what they heard.

Maybe it was because he listened so intently that he picked up the mocking from behind him.

“Pathetic,” a man scoffed from a nearby table. “Look at him, sitting like that and doing woman’s work.”

The women stopped working again and frowned at the man that had belittled Nicolo. Nicolo sighed, a world-weary sigh, because it didn’t seem to matter what culture he visited.

There was always at least one mean-spirited bully.

Turning in his chair, he looked for the speaker. Ah, there. The long-faced man that looked as if he’d never experienced love in his life. Probably the case, sadly. Nicolo tsked him gently, “You can poke fun at me. That’s fine. But do not make fun of the work. These women work hard. Their work is not less compared to a man’s.”

There was a cheer from the women and Nicolo got a kiss on either cheek by both is grandmother instructor and Ahit on the right. Which was a little embarrassing, but nice, too.

Of course the man that had started this fight wasn’t happy about Nicolo’s words. He lumbered up immediately to his feet, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists. A brawler, that was obvious by the look of him. If the nose that had been broken three times wasn’t an indication, then the way he stood with his weight on his toes, ready to move, would have told Nicolo all he needed to know.

Nicolo put the shirt down on the table, standing and getting ready to move himself. He knew the signs of a brewing fight when he saw it. Unfortunately, this man wasn’t alone. He had a table of friends too and they were eyeing Nicolo as if he were the perfect way to work out some frustrations.

The bully charged in, but he wasn’t stupid about it. He came in hard, but from an angle, not presenting a clean target for Nicolo. Nicolo turned, dodging by a hare’s breath, then sank a fist into the man’s stomach before throwing him back. The bully kept his feet, although he staggered a bit to manage it.

Nicolo eyed him warily and waited.

“You stop fighting!” the grandmother yelled at him, slamming a fist down on the table. “Did your mother teach you no manners?”

“Stay out of this, you old whore!” the man snapped back at her.

Now that Nicolo wouldn’t let stand. His temper snapped and he closed in the distance in a trice. He caught the man’s chin in a neat uppercut, then spun and planted an elbow in the back of the neck. It sent the bully into a messy fall onto the ground, his hand clutched protectively around the base of his skull. Getting hit there meant stars exploding behind your eyes with pain. Nicolo had been hit in that spot before, so he knew that it was a quick way to end a fight without doing a lot of damage.

The man’s friends weren’t happy that he was taken down so quickly and stood up, ready to come to his defense. Before they could get a full step in, both of them found a sword had suddenly appeared in front of their throats. They stopped dead, eyes comically crossed as they stared at the sharp edge.

“You may not hurt Nico,” Yusuf informed them in that idle tone he used when he was utterly angry. “You may go and collect your friend and take him somewhere he can rest. And that is all you may do.”

“Fine,” one of them said grumpily, still staring hard at the blade as if trying to figure out how to get around it.

Yusuf withdrew the blade but watched them like a hawk as they skirted by Nicolo. Nicolo for his part retreated back to the table although he didn’t sit just yet. He stayed in a defensive mode until all three men were on the far side, heading up the stairs with their wounded friend slung between them. Only then did he relax.

“You have half-naked bar fight without me?” Yusuf chided him, eyes dancing with laughter. He put the sword away.

Nicolo rolled his eyes. “I was mending my shirt.”

“Oh yes? Ah, I see.” Yusuf came in closer and examined the work he’d already done with a judicious purse of the lips. “You’ve been taught well by such pretty ladies. Mend mine too?”

Giving him a sideways look that conveyed just what he thought about that request, Nicolo pointed him silently towards an empty spot.

Not at all disappointed by this, Yusuf just laughed. “Had to try. Honorable grandmother, will you teach me too?”

“Of course. Sit.” She had a calculating gleam in her eye as she asked, “And what do you need mended?”

“My shirt as well. The seam under my arm ripped open.”

She smiled the smile of a woman well pleased. “Take that off first. Then I will show you what to do.”

“Thank you.” Yusuf promptly stripped off the shirt and sat down in a newly vacated chair next to Nicolo.

Yusuf had apparently found somewhere to clean up a little, as his hair was a little damp around the edges and he smelled like clean male skin and soap. Not that Nicolo was sniffing him, but when sitting this close, it was hard not to notice.

And Nicolo was trying very hard not to notice. His own personal revelations aside, Nicolo wasn’t sure if he should approach Yusuf. Or if he did, how. There were too many unknowns there and trying anything in front of an audience sent a skitter of unease crawling under his skin. Now was not the moment.

He picked up his own shirt and the needle and went back to his own mending. With the approaching storm cooling the air down, and evening approaching, it had grown a mite chilly in the room. Yusuf seemed to radiate heat, a heat that Nicolo could feel himself soaking up. He was abruptly aware of Yusuf as he hadn’t been before even though he wasn’t looking directly at him. It seemed to settle over him like an aura and he shivered a little under the feeling.

The shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

A sharp pain sparked in his finger and he lifted it up abruptly to his mouth. Damn, he’d stuck himself.

Grandmother looked at him as if she knew precisely why, too. “Pay attention, Nico.”

Nicolo gave her a sheepish smile in return.

In hindsight, he should have just mended Yusuf’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stitch & Bitch with eye-candy, anyone?


	18. Chapter 18

Yusuf started his morning with washing and prayer, as he was in the habit of doing. It wasn’t that he had perfect faith anymore, not really, because too much had changed. But Wudu and Salat were so ingrained in him that he felt strange not doing them. It gave him structure as nothing else could in this ever-changing life he now lived.

Part of his morning routine too, now, was setting some water aside for Nicolo. Like this morning as they got ready to head back into Cairo, he placed a basin of water and soap aside for his friend. Nicolo normally washed when he did although he didn’t do prayers. That was something they’d learned about each other, the differences in religious rituals. Yusuf found it odd to not pray routinely throughout the day, but…well, there was much of Christianity that didn’t make sense to him. Yusuf respected the difference. Nicolo did the same. And that’s all either man really needed.

So he washed, and prayed, and this morning got a show as Nicolo struggled to shave off a beard without the aid of a mirror. He’d been itching and tugging at it for days now, constantly making faces. Yusuf didn’t mind his beard, but he kept his tidy and short to combat the heat. Nicolo’s had grown in wrong and it showed.

“Finally gave up?” he asked as he came around the bed to watch, hip propped up against the wall.

“Damn thing is itching me to death,” Nicolo responded, nose wrinkling. “Did I miss a spot?”

“You missed more than one.” Amused, Yusuf approached and held out his hand. Nicolo slapped the razor into it, handle first and tipped his head back to give Yusuf easier access. Yusuf lightly scraped the edge against his skin, rinsing it now and again before taking up a towel and wiping Nicolo’s face dry.

Nicolo apparently couldn’t wait to get back to a barber back in Cairo. He’d been shaved only once while there—the barber shop he’d passed was so appalled by all of his hair that they’d given him a prompt discount—and he’d liked the coolness of a clean shave. Barbers were on every street corner in Egypt, it seemed, so he could have tried for one last night after the storm had passed. But he apparently hadn’t thought of it then.

Actually, that brought up a good point. “Where did this razor come from?”

“Borrowed it from inn keeper,” Nicolo replied, rubbing at his now clean skin. “Ah, better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Going to the basin, he gathered it all up. “I’ll return this. Get my bag?”

“Sure, meet you outside.”

Yusuf smiled as he went down, more than a little proud of Nicolo. He was picking up the language very quickly, his accent slowly smoothing out. He still had a ways to go but it was so much easier to converse with him now. Yusuf was tempted to reward him by teaching Nicolo the _really_ naughty words. How filthy did he have to get before that priest-turned-knight blushed?

Yusuf anticipated finding out with a little too much glee.

The chore done, thanks dispensed, Yusuf went out the side door to join the rest of the caravan. They were forming up now, carts being pulled out and hitched up to teams of oxen. Yusuf didn’t help much during this process as he had his own horse to saddle but he did keep a sharp eye out for anyone that thought to take advantage of the chaos and slip something away. Nicolo was on the other side of the stable yard doing the exact same thing.

“Yusuf Al-Kaysani?”

For a moment, Yusuf froze.

No one knew his full name here aside from Nicolo. Yusuf had purposely not used it, not offered it. His family were well known merchants and he’d feared his name getting back to them, somehow. He was assumed dead on a battlefield, after all. He had no way of going back home without raising a lot of interesting questions he had no answers for.

Yusuf feared what would be done to him but worse, he feared what would happen to Nicolo. Nicolo, who had no allies he could turn to. Nicolo, who would be left desperately alone. He couldn’t wish that on his Nico so he’d taken precautions and left his family out of it.

So no one here should know to call him by that name.

A hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him around. Yusuf had a heartbeat, nothing more, to come up with a plan. The man that faced him stared hard, brow wrinkled as if trying to reconcile something. Yusuf stared back, and his blank expression wasn’t entirely feigned. Did he know this man? He seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn’t think of a name or where he’d met him.

“Yusuf Al-Kaysani?” the man repeated more insistently. “That is you, correct?”

“I’m sorry?” Yusuf returned, desperately trying to remember this man and failing. A business associate of his father’s, maybe? Either way, he had to get out of this while leaving the man with the impression that he was mistaken. “Do I look like someone you know?”

The man hesitated and stared even harder. “You look just like…no, you are. You are an Al-Kaysani.”

Shit, shit, shit. “I’m afraid I don’t know—”

“Hey.” Nicolo appeared seemingly out of thin air with an impatient wave. “Come on, we’re running behind. Barak’s ready to lead out.”

“Of course.” Yusuf shot the man a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I must—”

The man shook his head consistently, dark eyes narrowed now in suspicion. “No, I know you. It’s been years but you haven’t changed much. I heard you went to war with those Crusaders, defending Jerusalem. What are you doing out here in Egypt?”

Nicolo scoffed. “What Jerusalem? He’s my partner and we’re based in Egypt. We’re mercenaries.”

The confidence in Nicolo’s voice stumped the man and he faltered a little. “But…he looks just like….”

“You’re mistaken,” Nicolo said, not unkindly. “And we don’t have time to debate it as we’re running behind now. Peace be with you.”

“Peace be with you,” the merchant returned, still with that confused air.

Yusuf lost no time mounting his gelding and heading out of the stable yard. Nicolo was quick to follow and they kept quiet and carefully didn’t look back as they rode out with the caravan. The streets were packed with early morning traffic, people setting up wares and hawking breakfast foods. Yusuf didn’t breathe easy until they’d passed several cross streets.

Only then did he turn and give Nicolo a nod. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure how to get out of that one without raising his suspicions.”

Nicolo glanced back, brows pulled together. “Was he someone you know?”

“No. At least, I can’t remember him. I think he’s a business associate of my father’s.”

“And, ah, what are the odds we’ll run into someone like him again?”

Making a face, Yusuf admitted, “I thought we were far enough out we wouldn’t. But my family has widespread contacts.”

“So…you’re saying Cairo may be too close?”

Yusuf grimaced again. “Maybe.” Cairo had seemed a good option at the time, but perhaps he’d been naïve to think so. His family didn’t go into Egypt very often, only twice in his lifetime. It was something of a trip, after all. He’d thought it far enough out to give he and Nicolo a chance to get their feet under them.

But Cairo might indeed be too close.

Growling in vexation, Yusuf bowed to the inevitable. “How do you feel about Malta?”

Nicolo blinked at him, not following. “Malta? Where’s that?”

Yusuf pointed directly west. “That way, off the coast.”

“Have you been there before?”

“No.”

Nicolo pursed his lips and thought about that for a second. “Are there crocodiles?”

Amused now, Yusuf answered, “No.”

“Let’s go to Malta.”

Yusuf laughed at that, beyond amused. He thanked Allah again for giving him this man, who was so easy going by nature, as a travel companion. He looked at Nicolo, saw him smiling and smiled back a little helplessly.

This strange life was indeed so much better with Nicolo at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am DETERMINED to get them to Malta. THINGS WILL HAPPEN IN MALTA, DAMMIT.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Turns out, Melite was the ancient name of Malta. At least until it was re-inhabited at 1049 and renamed again to Medina. And then reconquered again in 1091 by Roger 1 of Sicility and you see where this is going, right? Annnd I messed up a the beginning of this chapter and have to re-write a section, so don't get confused on me, people. I'm doing research while brain dead. It's not pretty. 
> 
> Damn you, history, stop messing with me.

* * *

“It’s under Sicilian control?” Nicolo asked Barak in surprise.

“Yes, some five years or so ago, now.” Barak hummed and stroked his chin in thought. “A Sicilian count went in and conquered it.”

Nicolo stared at him, feeling…something, at any rate that their plans once again seemed intent on taking a sharp turn. They were well on their way back, and it was only by chance that the conversation he’d had with Barak this morning ventured onto this topic. He was ever so glad it had, now. But this was definitely a conversation that Yusuf needed to join in on. He turned and hailed his friend from where he rode in the back of the caravan. “Yusuf!”

Yusuf urged his horse into a canter before slowing down to ride at Nicolo’s stirrup. “Yes?”

“Malta is under Sicilian control,” Nicolo relayed in consternation.

Yusuf blinked at him, taken aback. “Really?”

Barak leaned forward in his seat to look around Nicolo and respond. “Happened five years ago.”

“Really?” Yusuf demanded in surprise. “My father passes it sometimes on his business trips. He says it’s stunningly beautiful. I thought it still under Muslim control.”

“Oh, it is,” Barak assured him. “I’ve passed by it myself. But Muslims aren’t in control of anymore, haven’t been for several years.”

Yusuf and Nicolo shared a look of consternation that said, _Well, there went that idea._ Nicolo had no desire to be anywhere near an area under Sicilian control. Genovian he might be, but he spent quite a bit of time in and around the other city-states while preparing for the Crusades which meant he knew a lot of people. Any place with a dominant Church power right now flirted with trouble. It was just as dangerous to him as staying near port cities was for Yusuf. 

Picking up on their looks, Barak asked curiously, “Why Malta?”

Yusuf sighed, hand splayed. “I’d heard it was beautiful, and Nicolo and I thought to visit there soon.”

“Ah. Well, up to you whether you go or not.” Barak shrugged as if that was the end of the topic as far as he was concerned. “You can’t go now anyway. Winter’s coming rather quickly, you’ll need to find steady work in Cairo to make it through the winter months. Trade from up north will slow to a crawl in another month.”

That was unfortunately true. Without a clearer destination, wintering in Cairo was likely their best bet. Nicolo shot another speaking look with Yusuf and it was clear that he thought the same.

Traffic approached from the other direction and Nicolo took advantage of it, using it as an excuse to drop back to the back of the caravan to give them room to pass. It bought him a semi-private moment with Yusuf and he used it.

“Can we just stay in Cairo over the winter?” Nicolo asked urgently.

Yusuf’s head waffled back and forth. “I think so. My family only came out this far twice in my entire life. It was odd enough seeing someone that knew my family in Port Said, to tell the truth. It made me paranoid.”

Hence why he’d suggested moving on. “I’d rather stay in a place where we have some contacts, save up a little money and buy some decent equipment before moving on.”

“Same,” Yusuf agreed and the merchant in him calculated with narrowed eyes. “Barak likes us so well that he’s offered to introduce both of us to various people, help us find work throughout the winter.”

He’d mentioned that before. “He spoke to you about it again?”

“Yes. I think he’s quite keen on keeping us. I’d prefer to stay in Cairo for that reason alone.”

“Then let’s do it,” Nicolo encouraged. “If it turns out to be a mistake, we can always leave in the middle of the night.”

Yusuf snorted in amusement. “There is that option. Alright, Cairo it is.” He eyed Nicolo sideways, expression slipping into one of teasing. “You were loathed to give up your baths, weren’t you?”

“It might have factored in,” Nicolo confessed easily. “And you’re one to talk, as you wash more than I do.”

Yusuf shrugged, not denying this. “It is very handy to have clean water at hand, I won’t lie. If we end up staying, we’ll need to find a little house to rent.”

“True.” Staying in the inn for months would get expensive very quickly. He thought more about what that would entail, sharing a house together. Something near a bathhouse would be good, for both of their sakes. Not too close to a market, though, as the main market was noisy and the mixture of scents sometimes overwhelming.

Even as his mind listed out the practicalities, other mental images swarmed to mind. Mornings with a domestic air where they ate breakfast at a shared table instead of something packed and cold. Quiet evenings where they could sit and talk, no one to distract them. Moments when Yusuf would turn, smile, and invite Nicolo in closer. It was an extremely tantalizing parade of images through his head and he felt himself blushing a little under them.

Sometimes he wondered if his attraction to Yusuf was only lust. Simple sins of the flesh and nothing more. But when he found the idea of sharing a roof with Yusuf to be so heady and appealing, it rather put paid to that idea, didn’t it?

“What are you thinking about?” Yusuf inquired, head canted.

Nicolo would answer that question over his cold, rotting corpse. “That I’d better do the cooking.”

“What are you trying to say?” Yusuf pointed a finger at himself in protest. “I can cook!”

“You can roast things over a flame,” Nicolo disagreed, ribbing him with a perfectly straight face. “Anything else is outside your abilities.”

“Not true! I can make bread!”

“Oh now that, I have to see to believe.”

They kept bickering until Barak called back and asked if their marital dispute was done yet. And even then, Yusuf had to get in the last word.

Nicolo let him with a small, secret smile of amusement.

They got back to Cairo in good time and with only two crocodile attacks, thank any god listening. Before leaving Port Said, Yusuf’s sewing teachers had given him two needles, thread, and a bit of material to patch with. And a few kisses to his cheeks, all of which he took with thanks. It came in particularly useful as he mended things on the road, keeping himself from looking like a beggar.

The caravan pulled in late afternoon into the shop and they were greeted by a smile that turned into one of true delight to see that everyone on this trip had made it. Aison clasped each driver, thanking him for returning safely, and gave both Nicolo and Yusuf a bonus on the spot.

Everyone pitched in to offload the goods, then Barak snagged them by their elbows, leading them into a nearby restaurant. It had an inn attached, and a stable yard so it made for a good place to spend the night. They handed horses over to stable hands with thanks. Barak led the way inside, and Nicolo intended to reserve a room on the way in but was distracted from doing so by the rest of the caravan drivers arriving on his heels. 

The restaurant boasted the usual fare of bread, beer, beans, fish and garlic for seasoning. It was packed with people and there was only one table in the corner. They piled into it, he and Yusuf tucked into the corner. Nicolo had learned earlier that the Egyptians were great believers in beer. It was their daily staple and men of the working class drank it more than water. It was rather tasty, light in flavor and not nearly as potent as the alcohol he’d grown up on. Especially tonight, after a successful trip, the beer would flow freely.

Barak called out an order for plenty of food and beer, got a wave from someone in response, and turned back around with a grunt of satisfaction. “Now, before we all get drunk, I spoke to Aison while you were unloading. Told him how well you worked with us, that you want to winter here in Cairo. He’s got deliveries that need to be made over the upcoming months, said he’ll be happy to hire you on as extra security for the shop. He’s left it up to me to ask you and work out terms. How does that sound?”

Nicolo loved the idea of continuing to work with Barak and the others. And Aison had proven to be a fair man, even generous. But it wasn’t just his decision to make. He looked at Yusuf to see his reaction.

Only to find Yusuf already looking at him with the same question on his face. Nicolo gave a shallow, hopeful nod of encouragement. It was all Yusuf needed before a smile broke out, teeth flashing white in the dark beard. “We’d love to work further with you, Barak.”

“Good!” Barak sat back and expelled a loud breath of relief. “Life will be easier with you two around. I’ll help you find a place to settle, you’ll need something larger than a room inn.”

“If you don’t mind,” Yusuf replied, leaning further over the table. “What do small houses go for here, in terms of rent?”

Nicolo paid attention to the conversation as they talked about location, and costs, and what their salary would be and for how long the contract would be. Of course he did. But the food also arrived, and the beer, and it was funny how quickly a man’s attention wandered when his belly was full and his hands were idle. His fatigue sank in, too, and Nicolo found himself listing more and more to the left. Eventually, the only thing holding him up was Yusuf’s shoulder.

A hand snaked around his waist and pulled him further in. Nicolo sank in with a sigh, letting his head rest on a strong shoulder, his own hand wrapped comfortably around Yusuf’s knee. Ah, this was nice. So peaceful despite all of the conversations going on around him. He let his eyes closed and he soaked in the moment.

Could he have this? Not just this moment, but the peace and affection that Yusuf gave him so freely. Could he have everything offered now in the future as well? Nicolo didn’t like the idea of this being transitory, of not being able to lean into Yusuf whenever he liked. But when he pondered on it, it probably did look odd from the outside. A man cuddling in with another man. Yusuf likely only allowed he because he thought Nicolo the worse for drink.

“I think that one’s done in,” Sethos mentioned. “For that matter, so am I, and the wife will wonder where I’m at. I’m off. Yusuf, you need help with him?”

“No, it’s fine. There’s rooms above us for rent, correct? Can you ask for a room?”

“Sure, be right back.”

Nicolo thought perhaps he needed to open his eyes and not be so lazy. It was hard to dredge up the energy to do so when he was so utterly relaxed. The others left as well with goodbyes and see-you-in-the-morning. Nicolo really should say the same back but he couldn’t manage it, somehow. Maybe he was exhausted by the trip, after all.

“Second door on your right, straight up the stairs,” Sethos said. Oh, Sethos was back already? That was quick. “Innkeeper said pay for the room in the morning.”

“Thank you, Sethos. Night, gentlemen.”

“Good night.” “Night.”

Oh, they were gone too.

Yusuf’s voice was warm as he whispered, “Time to wake up and head to bed, my Nico.”

He wrinkled his nose in response. Movement? Not appealing.

“That was absolutely adorable. I feel bad waking you.” Yusuf leaned in—

—soft lips brushing the bridge of Nicolo’s nose—

And Nicolo’s heart stopped. He’d…been kissed. Even if it was only on his nose, he’d been _kissed_ , by _Yusuf_ , and, and, and he was utterly indignant the man had only done it when he thought Nicolo asleep and too drunk to care.

Nicolo’s lax attitude blew apart like smoke in the wind. He was wide awake now and not about to let this stand. If Yusuf was going to kiss him, he was going to get a _proper_ kiss, dammit. He caught Yusuf’s head, tugging the man sharply back down and tilted his head at the same time.

It was part kiss, part collision, as it wasn’t gentle and sweet. Too much of Nicolo’s frustration poured in and he took Yusuf’s lips without apology for a full three seconds before releasing him. Yusuf pulled back, a little dazed and very wide around the eyes.

He swallowed hard, throat visibly working, before he managed, “Upstairs.”

Nicolo blushed and averted his eyes. Oh. Maybe he’d assumed something he shouldn’t have? But Sethos said…well, Sethos was wrong. Obviously. He pulled himself out from behind the table and went directly upstairs without looking up from the floor, not more than strictly necessary to avoid walls. He was embarrassed and not sure how to explain any of that to Yusuf. Wait, what room was theirs again? And their gear was still in the stables, wasn’t it? Maybe he should go fetch that, give Yusuf a moment.

Yusuf slid past him in the narrow hallway and opened the right door. He didn’t wait for Nicolo but walked directly in.

Tonight would be awkward, no doubt. Yusuf obviously didn’t know how to look at him just then. Nicolo thought about making up some excuse, or truly pretending to be drunk, but that felt like the coward’s path to him. And he’d never been that. Had no desire to become it now.

He wanted many things from Yusuf. He wanted his trust, his friendship, his ever-present humor. He wanted to trace that mischievous smile with his fingertips, to look into dark eyes and have them stare back with equal affection. He wanted to lie in the man’s arms and be held like someone dear. He wanted to do the same for Yusuf. And maybe that wasn’t something on offer. He’d be happy to have only the trust, friendship and humor. He truly would. But he still wanted the rest, too.

And Nicolo wouldn’t have any of those things if he faltered now. Yusuf may or may not want the same. Nicolo didn’t know. But he did know that if he didn’t communicate all of this to Yusuf, then Yusuf had no chance of even thinking of the possibility. And that, more than the possibility of rejection, broke his heart most of all.

With a deep breath for courage, he walked through the open door and closed it softly behind him. Yusuf stood in the middle of the room, his hands hovering over the bed as if not sure what to do next.

Heart, Nicolo prayed, don’t fail now. “Yusuf—”

Yusuf threw up a staying hand, still not looking at him. “No need to apologize or explain. I know you’re drunk, it’s fine—”

“I’m not drunk, Yusuf. I haven’t been the entire evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier, the two that hadn't left quite yet: 
> 
> Barak: Sethos! Do you see that?  
> Sethos: Finally, they've kissed! Who won the bet?  
> Barak: I think it was Iason. He said it wouldn't happen until we were back in Cairo. Damn, why do I bet against that man?  
> Sethos: Good question. Why do I bet with you? I should know better, you always lose.  
> Barak: Quiet, you. At least this way they'll stop pining over each other.  
> Sethos: I'd hope so. It was getting ridiculous.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated M. For reasons. Fufufufu.

* * *

Not drunk. Not drunk?

Those words reverberated around in Yusuf’s head like a spoon in an empty bucket. Noise without meaning, then with sudden clarity, he realized what it meant. Nicolo hadn’t been drunk the entire evening. The cuddling and sleepy sighs of pleasure and that demanding kiss—

All of that had been done on purpose.

He turned slowly, eyes sweeping over Nicolo as if he’d never seen the man before. Yusuf had never really thought about what to do if Nicolo ever initiated something. Fantasized, certainly. Actually considered it? It seemed too far-fetched, too wistful an ideal to contemplate. And even fantasizing hurt, a small tug at the heart. It left him flat-footed and without a ready response now that the fantasy had suddenly morphed into reality.

Yusuf stared at Nicolo, who was blushing and shifting nervously from foot to foot. This wasn’t a dream, correct? “If you’re not drunk,” Yusuf breathed, “maybe I am?”

Nicolo’s head came back up and he stared at him, perplexed. “What?”

He couldn’t stand this distance between them. It was only a few steps but it felt like an ocean. Yusuf closed in, his eyes locked on Nicolo’s face. Nicolo was still shy, but he stood his ground. How so very like the man. It sent an anticipatory thrill through Yusuf and he wet dry lips, trying to phrase this correctly. A wrong word now might cut off his chances to the quick. “Nico. What do you want?”

Color was high in Nicolo’s cheeks but he kept his eyes level with Yusuf’s. “You. I want you. But I don’t know what you want.”

So very straightforward. Yusuf wanted to kiss him for it. And he would, in a moment, but he hadn’t gotten to this age without learning that the surer path to a lover’s heart was through words. Actions could sometimes be misconstrued. He couldn’t take that chance with a man as precious as this. “I wish for you to be my breath. You are like the moon on the darkest night. I can walk freely because you are at my side. I want to awaken and see the sunrise reflected in your face, to be able to kiss you and taste it. I want for our hearts to start beating in tandem so there is no doubt what the other feels, no uncertainty, only shared joy.”

There were tears in Nicolo’s eyes and he gasped in a shaky breath. “You say it so much better.”

They wanted the same. They wanted each other. Yusuf would crow about this from the rooftops, but later. Right now, he had a man to kiss senseless. He couldn’t contain a smile as he leaned in, kissing Nicolo fervently. Nicolo’s hands slid up his chest, into Yusuf’s hair, his fingers leaving sparks of pleasure behind. He drew Nicolo in, as much as he could, their hips pressed against each other. Mmm, that was lovely, the press of that strong body. Yusuf had imagined this very scene many times. Reality suited them so much better.

He pulled at Nicolo’s bottom lip, sucking on it a moment, getting a small shiver of delight that he felt in Nicolo’s breath. Oh, he liked that. It was a slippery slope that Yusuf found himself treading. Everything that he did to please Nicolo in turn pleased him, as Nicolo was so unabashedly responsive. Yusuf would lose his head at this rate.

He pulled back a moment, resting their foreheads together, trying to bring his mind back above his belt in order to think. He did not want to rashly bull ahead. Yusuf was very aware of Nicolo’s—well, not innocence. The knight had seen too much of the world. Inexperience, at least. Forging ahead without any consideration wouldn’t end well for either of them. “My Nico, I want to take you to bed but it doesn’t have to be tonight—”

“Yusuf, you either take me to bed, or I kill you.”

“What, again?” Yusuf laughed then flinched from the finger poking him in the ribs.

“I have spent _weeks_ thinking about you and fantasizing about this,” Nicolo informed him with another poke in the ribs, “and I am done. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” And Yusuf was relieved because restraining himself where Nico was concerned took willpower that he didn’t want to expend.

Nicolo kissed him again, tugging insistently at his shirt, drawing it out of his pants. Yusuf helped him, eager to get to skin. They shed shirts as they edged closer to the bed, hands falling down to the waistband to tug next at pants, kissing all the while, unable to bear any seperation. Yusuf thought frantically even as he worked to get clothes off the amorous man in his arms. No oil to be had up here (dammit) but a more gentle introduction of sex with hands and mouth was probably better tonight.

Yusuf slid his hand in, gathering Nicolo up and stroking him from root to tip in a slow, firm glide. Nicolo broke the kiss with a gasp, head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut. So sensitive, his Nico. Yusuf ducked in and found a likely spot to suck just under Nicolo’s jaw. Nicolo hummed in response, his hands coming down to cup Yusuf’s arse and gently squeeze.

His heartbeat was loud in his chest, skin heating under the other’s caresses. Yusuf drew his thumb under the sensitive head and stroked just there, felt Nico shudder openly in his arms.

“Yu-Yusuf.”

“Hmm?”

“Let me touch you too,” Nicolo gasped.

“I’m not stopping you,” Yusuf chuckled, easing back from the mark he’d made in that fair skin.

“Pants,” Nicolo complained.

Ah, right. Actually, Yusuf wanted those off as well. They were very restrictive and binding right now.

It was a pleasure when the pants were open and pushed down onto his thighs, the air so much more liberating than cloth had been. He felt Nicolo’s touch, a little tentative, and kissed him in encouragement. He loved every second of this, the warmth and intimacy and the growing passion that bound them together. Yusuf didn’t want Nicolo to doubt that and he hoped his kiss conveyed it.

He'd linger in this moment for the next century and be content if his body didn’t have different opinions. Very loud opinions. Yusuf dropped his hand back down, encouraging Nicolo to hold both cocks together in a loose grip and stroke. Ah, that was better. That was more of what he needed. He kissed Nicolo deeply, his tongue wrapping around Nicolo’s and stroking it, relishing in the groan that reverberated out of the man’s mouth. He couldn’t stand still, kept doing mini-thrusts out of instinct. It felt too good, that hand gliding over him, the hard press of Nicolo’s cock hot against his own.

Nicolo’s arm around his shoulders tightened and with a hoarse shout against Yusuf’s mouth, he came hard over his belly. Yusuf dropped his hand to himself and finished off in three strokes, climaxing onto them both. A shiver of pleasure and release swept over him, leaving a warm glow in its wake. But that feeling didn’t even compare to the happy light in Nicolo’s eyes, the affection in his expression as he looked at Yusuf.

He wished that he had more than the single candle in the room to see his lover by. That single flame of illumination wasn’t enough to do Nicolo justice in this moment. Yusuf kissed him again, gentle and sweet. “Come, lay down with me.”

“I’d love to, but…” Nicolo gestured to the room at large. “We do still have all our gear in the stables?”

Damn practicalities. “A few minutes. Then I’ll go fetch it.”

Nicolo acquiesced with a small smile, stripping off his clothes and letting them hang over the edge of the bed. He pulled the thin blanket down and crawled in, laying on his side to give Yusuf enough room. It wasn’t that wide of a bed, but they’d make do. Especially as Yusuf had every intention of staying close.

Yusuf toed off boots, stripped down as well as he didn’t want to carry the dirt of the road into clean bedding. He snuggled in, enjoying the way that Nicolo rolled into his embrace with a satisfied sigh, as if that was precisely where the man had wanted to be all along. He stroked a hand along that smooth back, relishing the feeling of Nicolo in his arms.

“I’m surprised by you,” Yusuf murmured against fair hair. “You always seem to surprise me.”

Nicolo’s answer was a warm caress against his bare throat. “What, that I initiated something?”

“That too.” Nicolo had so much hatred, and prejudices, and misconceptions engrained in him that Yusuf doubted sometimes if he’d be able to overcome it all. That he had was both surprise and pleasure.

“I kept dreaming of you,” Nicolo confessed, his arm tightening for a moment around Yusuf’s waist. “Even when I slept right next to you, I dreamed of you. Months ago, I chose to listen to my heart instead of what I had been taught. My heart only spoke to me of you.”

Tears burned in Yusuf’s eye and it was he was caught utterly speechless for a moment. He kissed Nicolo’s forehead and tried, impossibly, to hold him tighter. “I’m overflowing with joy, my Nico.”

“If I hadn’t reached out to you, would you have done it instead?”

It was an important question and Yusuf didn’t take it lightly. “Yes, eventually. I didn’t know that you’d overcome so much. I was waiting on you to come to terms with things.”

“Ah. Well, thank you for the patience. I can’t say that I’ve worked through everything, there’s still a lot I’m uncomfortable with. But _you_ I’m sure of.” Nicolo pressed a kiss to his throat. “I still don’t understand what happened to us, or why, but the one thing that I’m positive of is that you were my gift. Everything else that might happen, the good and the bad, will be worth it because in the end, I’ll still have you.”

He was being entirely too sweet and open. Yusuf couldn’t control himself. He rolled Nicolo onto his back and kissed him fervently. Nicolo wrapped a leg around his waist, holding him closer, kissing back with just as much passion. With such a response, was it any wonder that Yusuf’s blood heated? That he had to have this man panting and breathless once again?

Yusuf did not, needless to say, make it down to the stables that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up some Arabic love poems to get an idea of how Joe would answer Nicky. The scene in the van is a good indication of how Joe speaks of/to a lover. Let me tell you, those poems I read? Heart-melting. Arabic men have GAME, hot damn.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several of you have asked me that now that I have them together, am I done with the story? Hell no. Setup is the hard part. 
> 
> Now I get to have fun. Fufufufufu.

* * *

Nicolo woke up in a golden haze. He was imminently comfortable, the warmth of the morning just right, the blankets soothing against his skin. Someone was kissing him gently, a mouth he knew well after a night full of such kisses. He kissed back, hand coming up to tangle in springy curls, and sighed with perfect contentment.

“Good morning, my Nico,” Yusuf murmured above his mouth.

“Good morning.” Frowning a little, Nicolo realized that Yusuf had already gotten up and dressed at some point. He looked down and sure enough, Yusuf was dressed for the day, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning in for kisses. “You’re up.”

“I could not bear to wake you earlier,” Yusuf explained with small shrug and besotted look. “You slept too peacefully. I went down to fetch everything. Do you want to go to the bath house this morning?”

“Mmm,” Nicolo sighed again in anticipation. A proper bath after a month on a dusty road sounded heavenly. “You spoil me.”

“We only have a small window of time before work starts, so be quick,” Yusuf warned.

They likely did, at that. The sunlight pouring in through the open window was rather advanced into the room. Yusuf really had let him sleep in. Part of Nicolo wanted to stay in bed, bask in the changes that last night had wrought.

But he was also a little sticky. Bath.

Yusuf moved so he could roll out of bed, and Nicolo pulled on clothes and boots. His bedhead was probably of epic proportions after all of the rolling around he’d done on it last night. Yusuf’s smug smirk said so, at least.

They left the building with their shoulders overlapping a little. Nicolo liked the proximity but it was a little unsatisfying, too. He wasn’t sure how to handle that feeling, what would be appropriate as they walked down Cairo’s busy streets. But the edge of Yusuf’s hand brushed up against his in a tempting manner that Nicolo found he couldn’t resist. A little tentatively, he hooked his pinky finger in with Yusuf’s.

Yusuf curled the finger around his and shot Nicolo a warm smile. Nicolo smiled a little helplessly back. It was surely written all over his face how he felt for this man but he couldn’t help it. There was no way to contain this feeling. It threatened to burst from his skin and overflow as it was.

The bathhouse was busy at this time of the morning, as everyone rushed to get a quick bath before they started their own work day. They found a spot in the pool that was semi-clear and washed, doing each other’s hair as before. Nicolo liked the intimacy of it and hoped this pattern continued. The thought crossed his mind to drop his hand, tease Yusuf a little but with so many other men nearby—no.

With the crowded conditions, they chose not to linger and were out again, dressed and refreshed, with a need for breakfast. They held hands properly this time as they went in search of food.

“Back to the restaurant?” Yusuf suggested.

“Might as well. We can throw things into our room that way and it’s conveniently close to work.”

“Then let’s do that.”

They walked for a time without a word passing between them. People passed by without a second glance at them, and that felt odd to Nicolo. He felt like he was changed after last night. Wasn’t it more obvious now that Yusuf had become integral to Nicolo’s happiness? He felt like he wore a sign over his head proclaiming as much but apparently not. Nicolo’s eyes kept straying down to their linked hands. It had been drilled into him throughout his life to not want this—this intimacy with another person, the passion of last night. And yet he did want it, and had experienced it, and….

“What is it?” Yusuf prodded.

Nicolo’s head came up. “What?”

“You’ve got a strange look on your face. What is it?”

Nicolo frowned. Not because he didn’t want to answer the question, but because he wasn’t sure how to put it into words. “I keep waiting, I think.”

“For what?”

“To feel different. Well, I do feel different, but not how I expected?” Nicolo growled a little in the back of his throat, frustrated that he wasn’t expressing this right. “I was taught this was a sin. Sex itself. Much less sex with a man. I expected to feel guilty, or troubled. But I don’t. I don’t want to repent. I want a repeat.”

Yusuf’s eyes crinkled up in a smile. “I’m glad to hear it. But because you don’t feel guilty, you feel odd?”

“Yes. Despite living strictly by Church teachings, I don’t think I took them in—” Nicolo tapped his heart with a finger “—not really. I couldn’t have. If I had, I’d never have reached out to you.”

“This is true. I wondered if you would realize. And I’m glad you didn’t believe them.”

"Me too." Nicolo looked at this man, the one he’d entrusted both heart and body to last night. That had held both tenderly as he’d patiently shown Nicolo just what kind of delights could be found with a lover’s touch. This man with a heart of gold and a smile that lit Nicolo up from within. He thought about what his life would have been like if he and Yusuf had never crossed swords. If they’d never woken back up afterwards, like they were now.

It terrified him, that idea. He would have been so empty as he went through the motions. Life was so much more vivid, and brighter, and heartfelt with Yusuf. Nicolo no longer remembered what life had been like before he’d met this amazing man. It was all a grey wash, a hazy memory he’d rather forget.

Yusuf watched him with a hunger, his eyes nearly pitch black under the force of the emotion. Without a word, he pulled Nicolo to a stop and kissed him, and not something quick, but with a bit of tongue diving into his mouth. Nicolo hummed as he kissed back.

“Do not look at me like that,” Yusuf cautioned in a husky tone. “I am only a man, Nicolo. You tempt me beyond reason when you look at me like that.”

“If I get nice kisses out of it, I will look at you like that every time,” Nicolo refuted, grinning now.

Groaning, Yusuf started walking, rhetorically complaining to the air, “This man, he is impossible. First he takes my heart, then he wants everything else. What am I to do with him?”

“I’ve got several suggestions if you’re not sure.” Nicolo didn’t even try to suppress a smirk.

“You, hush. Maybe if I put enough food into that mouth, you cannot say things that will get us both into trouble.”

Nicolo highly doubted that. But it was likely the safer plan.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some more cuteness with a hint of plot snuck in.

* * *

Yusuf turned around in the room, taking it all in once again. It was a nice enough house, with two separate bedrooms and a main room that segued into a kitchen. There was another room on the right, a bathing area that provided water to the kitchen as well. A very smart setup, and one Yusuf approved of. Private baths held their own appeal.

Like most of the houses built in Egypt, it was made of mud bricks. In fact, the construction looked relatively new. Yusuf wouldn’t have found that odd, normally. Egyptian houses wore down quickly with all of the rains and floods they saw, and with the houses made out of mud, they quickly wear down in a matter of years. But this was supposed to be an old house, wasn’t it?

He turned to Sethos, who was standing just inside the main door. “I thought you said this was your mother-in-law’s house?”

“We had to rebuild it,” Sethos answered the true question. “Roof was caving in. But once she moved in with us, to wait out the construction, we realized her health isn’t good. She falls a lot. It’s safer to keep her with us. But, well, that leaves us with this empty house. I’d rather rent it out than have it sit here.”

Ah, now it made more sense. He turned automatically, tracking Nicolo as he came in from investigating the bathing room. There was a smile of approval on his face. He clearly liked the house. Certainly, it was clean and of course brand new. It wouldn’t be a hardship to live here. It’s just that Yusuf was accustomed to living in much larger and nicer homes.

Well, it beat camping outside. Perhaps he should put this into perspective. And the rent that Sethos asked for the place was reasonable and far cheaper than staying in an inn. Yusuf thought he could live here fine. He asked Nicolo silently with his eyes and got a nod in response.

“We’ll take it,” Nicolo told Sethos. “And thank you. We weren’t having much luck finding something on our own.”

“It’s why I offered it. And I can trust you two, so it’s a relief to us, too.” Sethos’ tension relaxed. “Come to my house to pay her at the beginning of each month? She’ll be happy that someone’s living here and likes it.”

“We’ll do so. Can we move in today?”

Sethos waved both hands. “Go ahead, nothing to stop you.”

It was a day off, a good day to move in. Not that they had much to move in, but there were things they had to buy and lay in for the house to function right. Soaps and food and beer. Not to mention feed for the horses. There was some furniture here, a low round table with stools made of reed and thin wooden frames. No bed—presumably the owner of the house had taken her bed with her. They’d need to pick up another.

With a promise to come by before the day was out, and pay for a month’s rent, they split ways at the front door. He and Nicolo went for the market, Nicolo taking his hand before they were at the main street. He did that often, in fact. Whenever there was the opportunity, especially when they were on their own and not on a job, he always took Yusuf’s hand and laced their fingers together. Yusuf secretly thrilled whenever he did it. He had no doubt that Nicolo did it out of affection, because he liked to touch Yusuf. But he also had no doubt that it was Nicolo’s way of saying ‘fuck you’ to every person that might think their relationship wrong.

His lover was a gentle, quiet man but he did have a way of putting his foot down.

“We’ll have to do this in stages,” Nicolo stated, clearly thinking ahead. “We can’t carry it all at once.”

“No, that’s true,” Yusuf agreed. “And no cart to help us. Maybe we should grab one of the horses.”

“Now there’s an idea. Let’s do that and save our backs.” Nicolo took the next street, heading back to the inn. “We might as well grab both of them and our belongings, save ourselves a trip back here.”

“You’re full of good ideas today, my love.”

“I do try,” Nicolo responded with false modesty.

“Ha!”

They walked a bit further before Nicolo cleared his throat. “Yusuf. I’ve been dreaming of the women.”

Yusuf feigned hurt, staggering to the side. “You dream of women while lying next to me?!”

Nicolo slugged him in the arm, a playful jab that barely impacted. “Stop, you know who I’m talking about. The two women we see in our dreams.”

Yes, Yusuf did know who he was talking about. They both awoke to dreams of them, not constantly, but consistently. “They’re always in the middle of a fight when I dream of them.”

Nicolo nodded grimly. “Me too. I’ve assumed the reason I dream of them is because they’re like us. Immortals. The same reason why I dreamed of you.”

“I think the same,” Yusuf admitted. “But I’m not sure what to do about it. Or what to think. There’s so much we don’t understand about ourselves.”

“I know. It’s frustrating. I’ve thought before about experimenting, but…” Nicolo trailed off in a grimace.

Yusuf shook his head with fervor. “No. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you.”

“Nor I you. It’s why I didn’t suggest it.” With a resigned shrug, Nicolo tacked on, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually. But I do worry about the women. Even if they can’t die from it, what if they’re captured? And they seem to be in a very war-torn area.”

“I worry too, but what do we do? Nothing around them looked vaguely familiar to me. You?”

“No,” Nicolo sighed. “They do seem to be on the move, though. Maybe we’ll cross paths eventually.”

“Maybe.” Yusuf rather hoped so. And hoped that the women knew more than they did. Someone had to have some answers, right?

They let the subject drop, and went about their errands. One of the horses they stabled at their new house, and they threw their gear inside before going back out to the market. The bed they found first, a frame that curved slightly, then a mattress stuffed liberally with straw that was actually quite comfortable. Pillows and blankets, too, as they had no linens to speak of. Towels for bathing while they were at it. They loaded it on the horse, carefully balanced, and took it back to the house before venturing out again, this time for grain and food and the other paraphernalia that a house demanded.

One merchant in particular had most of the food staples, the prices decent, so Yusuf stopped in there. He picked up several things, most of them dry goods, which he piled up in front of the store owner to tally. Then he switched to the other side of the dim shop for the selection of oils and seasonings. Let’s see, a jar of oil—

A hand landed on his shoulder and Nicolo murmured into his ear, “Only one jar?”

He looked into that face, the brow that was quirked an nth degree, and felt his groin tighten a little. “Two?”

That brow cocked a bit higher. Nicolo’s expressions were always a study for Yusuf. The man could be incredibly straight faced sometimes and yet express so much to the right observer. That expression clearly said Yusuf had not caught the vision.

“Three,” Yusuf agreed as if he’d said something aloud.

With a small smile, Nicolo took three jars of oil back to the store owner to be tallied.

Yusuf watched him walk, and was that a slight sashay in Nicolo’s stride? Yusuf dearly hoped that Nicolo had a _fun_ reason for wanting three jars of oil and not…some other reason that Yusuf couldn’t even imagine.

Three jars. Yusuf could do a lot with three jars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, don't worry, Joe. Nicky has all the fun planned for two of those jars.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I can tell, the sleeping position is canon. So of course I had to tell HOW it became established, right?

* * *

A noise of pure pleasure escaped Nicolo’s mouth and he let his eyes slip close, head tilted back. Yusuf was driving into him in hard, steady strokes, at the perfect angle to create sparks around his eyes and his nerves sing with pleasure. Nicolo adjusted the legs he had wrapped around that slim waist, pulling Yusuf in tighter, encouraging him with his heels. Yusuf responded with a slightly harder thrust, nailing that magical spot in Nicolo that made him gasp and clench in pleasure.

“So beautiful,” Yusuf whispered, kissing his forehead, his cheek, the curve of his ear. “So welcoming. If you are any sweeter, my love, I will lose my mind.”

Nicolo really didn’t know how Yusuf could talk just then, as words were beyond him. He could almost grasp what he wanted to say, the words teasing at his tongue, and then Yusuf would drive into him again, hot and hard, and the words evaporated like smoke. His arms curled around broad shoulders, trying to pull Yusuf in closer, an impossible feat. They were already as close as two human beings could manage. Yusuf’s belly rubbed hard against his cock, and that felt good, no doubt of that. It wasn’t what Nicolo needed but he was content for the moment as he didn’t want this moment to end so soon.

His lover apparently had a different idea. He dropped a hand between them, stroking just at the head with a calloused thumb. It sent a new shiver dancing along Nicolo’s nerves, one of ecstasy.

The climax built without warning. Nicolo was riding a wave of pleasure one moment, slammed by it the next. He let out a hoarse shout as he came hard, his vision blacking for a moment. Panting, nearly dizzy with the aftermath, he missed it as Yusuf drove in hard and came deep within him.

Yusuf curled over him, head resting on Nicolo’s shoulder. Smiling, Nicolo stroked a hand along that strong back, enjoying the afterglow. It was always a pleasure to make love with Yusuf. Even two months of being lovers hadn’t changed that.

With a contented sigh, Yusuf pulled free and ducked into the bathing room to wet a cloth, which he came back with. Nicolo used to protest when Yusuf cleaned him up afterwards, but the man liked to take care of him, and Nicolo secretly liked him doing it. So the protests never really went anywhere. Now, he just rolled where directed and allowed Yusuf the intimacy, smiling at the kiss Yusuf always left at the small of his back.

When his lover returned, he snuggled into Nicolo’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist. They lay like that for a long moment, basking in afterglow and each other, before Yusuf murmured, “We’re almost out of oil.”

Snorting a laugh, Nicolo responded dryly, “And to think you didn’t understand at first why I told you to get three bottles of oil. And here we’ve gone through six.”

“I was thinking of filling your belly, not the rest of you,” Yusuf protested, also sounding amused.

“Yes, well, I kept getting the perfect view of your ass every time you bent to pick something up, so my mind was _not_ on food.”

“As I could tell once I realized just where your mind had gone.” Yusuf nuzzled in a little, a happy noise grazing Nicolo’s bare shoulder. “Thank Allah you’re easy to corrupt.”

“Oh, is that who you’re thanking?”

“And me, for being handsome. And my father, for making me handsome.”

“Ha! That’s more like you. For a moment, I wondered if you’d hit your head.”

A sleepy hum was his only answer before Yusuf was fast asleep.

Nicolo tilted his head a little, confirming this, then sighed. He’d wanted to speak with Yusuf properly about what to do. The winter season was more or less passed, they were at the end of their contract, and Barak had made noises about them staying. They possibly could, for a while. Nicolo was still unsure if they were immortal or just immune to death for the time being. Would he and Yusuf age? Or would they forever look as they were now?

Not that the idea of a Yusuf with silver hair was off-putting in any way. But if they were to forever look like this, didn’t that mean they would be limited on how long they could stay in an area?

It was a question that he didn’t have an answer to. But he did know that the dreams of the two women were happening more and more frequently, and he didn’t think that was a coincidence. He wanted to talk about it, but it had been a long day at work, and Yusuf was clearly tired. Nicolo would try for tomorrow.

He closed his eyes as well, trying to sleep. It was a little difficult with Yusuf’s heavy head on his shoulder. Not that he minded being cuddled in with him, but his arm would be pins and needles eventually.

A little fitfully, he fell to sleep.

—a blade slicing through flesh—

—a war cry from a petite woman raising a flag above her head—

—the agonized cry of the dying—

—the tall woman with dark hair shot from behind, falling off her horse—

Nicolo sat up with a gasp, dislodging Yusuf, the dream disturbing them both. They were both a little shaky, breaths coming sharply, as the dream had been too vivid and real this time. It felt like they had been in the battle as well. He turned, meeting Yusuf’s dark eyes. “We need to talk about this.”

Yusuf nodded and properly sat up. “I dream of them more often, now. You?”

“Yes, sometimes twice a week.” Nicolo chewed on his bottom lip a moment, trying to put this into words, this gut feeling he had. The blanket whispered over bare skin as he shifted, facing Yusuf more directly. “We’ve both said that these women are probably like us. But I think more than that, we’re supposed to be with them.”

Yusuf’s brows drew together in a contemplative expression. “All four of us making up a unit?”

“A team, if you will. Why else would we dream of them? But to give us an idea of what they look like, possibly where they are. We’re not meant to be alone, Yusuf. I feel this,” Nicolo tapped a palm over his heart. “As surely as I feel love for you, I feel this. We need to find them.”

Blowing out a steady stream of air, Yusuf admitted, “I do feel the same. The shorter woman, she looks Asian to me.”

Nicolo cocked his head, taking this in. He’d never seen someone from that area before. “She does?”

“Yes, very much. I’m not sure what country, but if we head east, maybe we’d find them?”

He couldn’t think of a better suggestion. And really, it wasn’t like they had much in the way of options. The Crusade was still going on strong, which meant travelling north would be highly problematic. South had more crocodiles so that was definitely out. East was their best option anyway. “When our contract finishes at the end of the month, let’s go.”

Yusuf shrugged agreement. “Alright. We’ll need to start saving for the trip.”

Fortunately, they’d been saving anyway. Just in case. But Nicolo nodded, not protesting.

They settled back down to sleep, Yusuf flat on his back this time. The confines of the bed demanded they be in contact with each other somehow, so Nicolo curled into his side. But his right arm started to pinch and complain before he could fall asleep, so he turned again, flat on his back.

Only that left his right shoulder dangling off the bed, which wasn’t comfortable. He squirmed, trying to pull it back in, but to no avail.

“Is there a mosquito?” Yusuf asked of him. “Why are you squirming?”

“Right arm keeps falling asleep,” Nicolo muttered, irritated himself. He just wanted to fall back to sleep. They had to get up in a few hours to work.

“Roll into your left side,” Yusuf directed.

Nicolo did as bid and yelped a little when Yusuf hauled him backwards. Not far, just until he hit the solid length of Yusuf’s body. Yusuf slid an arm under his head, encouraging him with a hand against his chest to relax. He did, a little cautiously. Oh. This was rather comfortable, this position. Yusuf was onto something, here. He sank further into it, his hand coming up to hold Yusuf’s arm across his chest in place.

Yes, this was quite comfortable. They should sleep like this more often.

It was the last thought Nicolo had before sleep overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not immediate that the boys find Andy, but I had to get them moving. They don't get to stay in Egypt. Besides, crocodiles.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Nicky outlines to Joe is in fact the route that the first Crusader's army took in order to reach Jerusalem. I would assume that this would be the only real route available to them at the time. 
> 
> Also, I've read about half of the Old Guard comics at this point, and I've got a rough timeline of what happens when, so I'll try to stick with it. I've also learned that Joe calls Nicky 'my heart' a lot in the comics, so I'll be adopting that in.

* * *

On their next day off, they got to planning.

Nicolo had charmed a map out of Barak, a trader’s map that was mostly accurate (as accurate as any map was) and had it spread out across their round table. Yusuf sat next to him with a bowl of small pebbles in his lap so they could mark things. “Alright, my heart. Where was your army coming from? What are their routes, what cities and seaports must we avoid?”

“Hmm, it’s something of a three prong attack, or at least a combination of three fighting forces. The first came from France and through Genoa, although I heard part of them split and went through Rome, and then Sicily before sailing to Jerusalem. The second army came through Venice. I was part of that group. The last started in the Holy Roman Empire and then through Constantinople.” Nicolo put down stones as he listed off cities, often putting some down on the cities that were along the way. “With so many groups going through the Byzantine Empire, I’d rather not set foot in it. What do you—why are you looking at me like that?”

Yusuf knuckled an imaginary tear from his eye. “I just suddenly remembered our early days. If I’d asked you that question back then, I would have had a knife in my throat.”

“I would have tried a ‘no’ first,” Nicolo denied dryly. “At any rate, I don’t know of a good route to go east from here.”

“Certainly not by following the coastline or getting on a ship. I’ll be frank with you, my heart. I do not like the idea of boarding a ship for a long period of time. If something goes wrong, it means that we’ll be stranded on a very small vessel with too much water around us. I cannot imagine how many times we’d drown before finally getting to land.”

Nicolo made a made as if he’d bitten into something both rotten and sour. “I agree. But I think we’ll have to board something in at least short jaunts.”

“The world has a great deal of water to cross, after all.” Yusuf stared at the map, chewing on his bottom lip. “What if we go down, cut across the Red Sea and into Arabia?”

Nicolo stared at the map doubtfully. “And sail across at what point? Mecca?”

“I think Adan. Shorter trip, for one. Far away from anyone that knows my family, for another. Or at least, less of a chance. And then from there, we cut across the Arabian Sea and into India. From India, we should have no trouble going north-east.”

“Don’t call down bad luck by saying that,” Nicolo admonished him, but he was already tracing the route with his finger. “It looks feasible, though. But if we take two ships, won’t that get expensive?”

“Ah, money,” Yusuf lamented, appealing to the heavens. “Why is it such a burden? Perhaps we can work our passage down. Barak might know of someone that needs an escort to Adan.”

Nicolo brows screwed together in a dubious manner. “You really think asking Barak is a good idea?”

“What, he came around, didn’t he?”

“After he yelled, threatened, and attempted bribery, sure.”

That was true. Barak hadn’t taken their notice of resignation well. He liked having Nicolo especially as the mild-mannered man often found a way to diffuse a fight before it could really get started. And he and Nicolo worked seamlessly as a pair, so much so that people rarely got hurt while they were on the job. And nothing ever got stolen. Barak had hinted several times that if they wanted a permanent job, they had one. So no, he hadn’t taken the news well that they wanted to move on.

“It doesn’t hurt to ask. And if he doesn’t know, I’ll ask others until I find something. We don’t have to leave on a specific day, we have time to arrange something.”

Nicolo nodded but it wasn’t an entirely happy expression.

Uh-oh. He didn’t like that look on his Nicolo’s face. Yusuf trailed light fingers along a firm jawline, urging Nicolo silently to look at him. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s not really that…” Nicolo trailed off, eyes even sadder now. “I know that I’m the one that keeps urging us to move, so it’s selfish of me to say this.”

“Hush. You are the most selfless man I know. Why would you say these words to me?” Yusuf tapped a finger against Nicolo’s mouth, a gentle rebuke. “Are you reconsidering leaving now?”

Nicolo gave a small shake of the head. “I feel that we should go. It’s just…this city has been good to us. Kind to us. And I’ve liked sharing a house with you. The outside world isn’t going to be as tolerant as it is here.”

That was unfortunately true. And Yusuf didn’t know where the safe cities were for them. He had only rumor and hearsay to go off of, and who knew how out of date that was? How inaccurate? It was a real concern and he didn’t want to dismiss Nicolo’s feelings, but he didn’t want his lover to worry about this now, either. “My heart, worry borrowed ahead of time is worry doubled. I do not want you to worry about this now. It is true, we will find trouble out of Cairo. But I want you to remember, they can only hurt us. They can’t kill us, they can’t separate us, and I can endure anything if it means you are still with me.”

Nicolo’s eyes flashed cold fire. “They better not try to hurt you. I’ll come down on them like an avenging angel.”

He kissed that angry face because it was impossible not to. “I almost look forward to the sight of you, livid and wielding that sword of yours on my behalf.”

“You say that as if you wouldn’t be doing the same damn thing,” Nicolo retorted, and he was trying not to smile and failing rather miserably at it. “And we’re off-topic, I think. East towards India?”

“East towards India,” Yusuf agreed. “If we start shopping smart now, we may be able to lay in supplies for the trip and not be stuck with just one pair of clothes again.”

“That does seem to get us into trouble,” Nicolo agreed ruefully. “I’ll pack extra material, thread and needles as well. And we both need new boots. Ours are worn too thin for a journey like this.”

“Also true.” Yusuf didn’t look forward to new ones, though. New boots were a pain to break in.

Nicolo swept the pebbles back into the bowl before rolling the map back up. “I’ll return this to Barak tomorrow.”

“How did you borrow it from him, anyway?” It was strange, now that Yusuf was thinking about it. Wouldn’t have Barak refused, made it harder for them to plan?

“Oh, his wife let me borrow it,” Nicolo corrected with a winsome smile. “I bought her a bag of dates in payment.”

“It worries me, how good you are with women.” Yusuf was only slightly kidding.

Nicolo smacked a kiss on his mouth. “You’re all I see. Now, come take a bath with me?”

“Was that supposed to be a question?” Yusuf followed him without any conscious thought, hands already twitching with the need to touch bare skin. “My love, if you ever hear me deny you, I’m either chained to a wall or no longer sane. There is no other option.”

Nicolo paused in the doorway to the bathing room and cast him a glance that was both speculation and lust. “Is that right? And my offer to give you an oiled massage?”

“I will rise from the dead to answer to that,” Yusuf assured him fervently. And hopefully. That wasn’t a rhetorical question, was it? Please let that not be a rhetorical question.

Amused, Nicolo chuckled as he stripped off his shirt, moving further into the room. “Coming from you, that’s not even an exaggeration.”

“Only fact, my love. Pure fact.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you curious, no. Nicky's offer was not at all a rhetorical question. And yes, Joe is very happy right now.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for a good spot to end this story. Not that I'm done with Nicky and Joe, but it'll be easier to do episodic stories in short chunks than to string it all together. I think I want to end it when they meet up with the girls. We'll see what my brain does when I get to that point.

* * *

It took a few weeks longer than Nicolo wanted, but Yusuf eventually found the right job for them. It was a connection of a friend’s friend, a family that wished to move back to Adan. The family consisted of an aging set of grandparents, a father and wife that were hardly young, and three adult children with a toddler. As the trip was dangerous, and they would have all their worldly possessions with them, they were understandably concerned about the safety of the trip.

It not only got Yusuf and Nicolo to their first check point in travel, but the family had generously offered to pay their ship’s passage, and it was too good an offer for Yusuf to refuse. So he’d taken it, they got them packed up in record time, and they set off on a rather dreary morning. Really, it looked like rain would threaten at any minute, so dark were the clouds.

Not an auspicious beginning, to say the least.

The storm held most of the morning, with them stopping only for prayers and quick breaks here and there. It grew into afternoon and they steadily put distance between themselves and Cairo. Yusuf kept a wary eye on not only their surroundings, but the sky. They were far enough out that no city guardsmen would police the area, so bandits were a real threat now. Whether he’d see bandits or rain first was anyone’s guess.

Their party of ten stretched out over two wagons and four horses, Yusuf taking the front to guard and Nicolo the back. The grandfather, Nadir, rode alongside Yusuf on a black gelding that was calm but looked as if it had staying power. It certainly didn’t look tired even after six hours of being on the road, which said something.

“It’s a fine horse you ride,” Yusuf said in some admiration. “His coat is sleek and his spirit intact, I think.”

“Yes, I never let anyone break my horses. It ruins the horse. You can tame them to your will without resorting to that.” Nadir regarded his own horse with a keen eye. “Your looks battle trained.”

Yusuf gave him a nod, acceptance of a well-placed guess. “I got him off a soldier. The man no longer needed him, and I did. But tell me, why this move? I heard your honorable wife mention something about a wedding?”

“It’s really a mix of reasons,” Nadir answered waving a hand back to indicate his family. “We never intended to stay all our lives in Cairo. I came out here on a business contract that was meant to last two years, that somehow stretched to five, then ten, and the next thing I know I’ve had not only children, but great-grandchildren in this land. My father died some years ago, and I inherited a sizeable amount of land in Adan. My brother’s been managing to maintain it all, but his health is failing. It’s too much for him. We’re moving back to our inheritance.”

“But that’s to good fortune.”

“In every aspect. My brother sent a messenger to tell us the news, and with it came a possible marriage offer for my granddaughter. She liked the picture and description my brother sent, so we hope to have an arranged meeting when we arrive. We hope to marry her off soon, assuming that when we sit down with his parents, we can agree on the marriage.”

Those negotiations between possible in-laws could make or break hearts. Not that Yusuf knew from personal experience. Nor ever would, thankfully. “Then joy be with her. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully. It’s well past time she finds a husband.” Nadir sighed soulfully. “So stubborn, that one. I blame it on her grandmother. She’s stubborn too and it’s now passed down along the line.”

“I heard that!” his wife called from the cart behind him.

“And she has ears like a bat,” Nadir continued, even more mournfully. He didn’t dare to look at his wife, kept his head facing forward.

Yusuf bit his lip to contain a smile. “But Allah has blessed you, too, as your wife ages gracefully.”

Proving that he could accept a saving line when thrown into the water, Nadir immediately agreed, “This is true.”

“Flatterer!” Fahima called again but it was obvious from her tone that she was pleased by the compliment.

Nadir studied Yusuf from the corner of his eye in a not so subtle manner. “I think you, too, are well past marrying age. You and Nicholas. But it also seems to me that you only have eyes for each other.”

Yusuf had wondered, sometimes, how he would respond when someone asked him this. In situations like now, when it was open farmland around them and the possibility of a disagreement with a travelling companion could mean more than an inconvenience, how would he respond?

In the end, his heart left him no other option but the truth. “This is true. I cannot marry a woman. I have no heart to give her, for my Nico has it, and always will.”

“Ah. And, ah, your family accepts this?”

“Nico is my family,” Yusuf answered honestly. It wasn’t that his family was all gone at this point, most still lived and thrived as far as he knew. But it was no longer safe for him to be near them. In every possible sense, it was only Nicolo that he could call family now.

Nadir took this information in, rolling it about in his head for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright.”

Alright? “That’s it? Some have many words to say to me.”

“Not for long, I wager,” Nadir responded with a rough chuckle. “You’re not one to suffer insults calmly. I can see your Nicholas doing so, he’s a soft-spoken man. But not you.”

“No, not me. Although I wouldn’t hit an elder.”

“In any case, you’ll get no trouble from me about this. It’s your own decision, yours and his. What you do is between you and Allah and whatever gods he worships. It doesn’t affect me and it’s not my business.”

Yusuf beamed at him. “I wish all people thought as such. There would be less fighting.”

“I agree. And besides, it’s a relief for me in one way.” Nadir waved his hand again to indicate behind him. “My granddaughter is a beautiful woman that likes the look of your Nicholas. If he was at all inclined to seduce her, we’d have trouble. I’m just as glad to avoid that possible problem.”

It was true that Asma were a little giggly around Nicolo. The former knight had taken it in stride with his usual gentle smiles and softly spoken words. Even now, Yusuf could hear giggling going on in the rear.

In fact, maybe he should drift back and make sure that no seductions were in play there. Just in case. “I as well. Speaking of, I’ll see how Nico is doing.”

There was an understanding and knowing expression on Nadir’s face as he gave Yusuf a nod.

Yusuf dropped back, his ears picking up on the conversation between Nicolo and Asma, the granddaughter, as they approached. She leaned out of the back of the wagon, her black abaya splayed out over the side a little, a hint of blush in her cheeks. Yusuf took one look at her face and knew that Nadir hadn’t been exaggerating. Asma did like the look of Nicolo, all too well. He’d definitely need to keep an eye on her.

“—still learning everything about his religion and culture,” Nicolo was saying to her, leaning slightly forward in the saddle in a comfortable manner. “Praying five times a day, for instance, with a cleaning ritual that accompanies the prayer. That was strange to me at first, I didn’t understand it. Then I realized that I, too, was taught to pray in specific circumstances. Like blessing food before partaking it. And it made more sense to me after that. But I don’t mind it, the differences. It makes things interesting.”

“Really? You pray in your religion too?”

“I think all religions involve prayer in some form.” Nicolo turned to smile at Yusuf. “Hello. Checking on us back here?”

“And curious about the laughter.”

“I was explaining how much I miss bath houses already.” Nicolo sighed. “And how it’s your fault I was corrupted by them.”

“Oh, my fault, is it?”

“Well, I don’t know who else to blame for that.” Nicolo wasn’t obviously smirking but it was lurking there, under the surface. “And while we’re talking about water, when do you suppose that will hit us?”

Yusuf also looked towards the sky, the dark clouds now pitching and rolling in a way that suggested a drenching was imminent. “Probably before we can hit the next town. We might need to find a barn to stay in.”

“I’d suggest it. We have things in these carts that probably shouldn’t get wet. Starting with mattresses.”

Yusuf grimaced agreement. Soaking wet mattresses were impossible to dry out later without the straw stuffing inside molding. “I’ll scout ahead. Or perhaps Master Nadir knows of someone.”

“Ask Grandfather,” Asma encouraged. “He travels this way often, he might know of a place.”

“Alright, I will. And hopefully he does.” Yusuf came in closer, putting a hand on the back of Nicolo’s saddle for balance before leaning over and stealing a quick kiss. Then he put heels to flank, urging his horse forward once more.

There. That should stop the giggling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A jealous Joe makes my heart tingle and puts a smile on my face. 
> 
> Look, I'm a simple woman, okay?


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More history! Ancient religions believed that the gods only held power in their own lands. Christianity was the odd duck of the time period, believing their God had power throughout the earth. So for instance, if you left Egypt, the gods of Egypt had no power over you. It's why taking someone a slave and removing them from their native land was such a huge thing.

* * *

Nadir did know of a farm that could shelter them, a rather wealthy place that was surrounded on three sides by emmer fields. Nicolo wasn’t surprised they were wealthy if this was their main staple crop, as the grain was consumed by Egyptians on a daily basis. It was a staple of their diet. And the fields were waist high in every direction, beyond what the eye could see.

They approached the house with the storm nipping at their heels, like a dog harrying a flock of sheep. The landowner looked wizened from so much time in the sun, a slight stoop in her posture, but she greeted them with a wide smile and a wave. “Nadir! I haven’t seen you in months, what’s all this?”

“We’re moving back to Adan,” Nadir called back to her. “Can we take shelter here?”

She pushed past her front gate of the yard, coming out to greet them properly, two dogs milling about in excitement to see people approaching. “Moving, you say? Come in, tell me about it. And be quick, I think the storm is about to burst.”

It certainly felt that way to Nicolo. The humidity of the air clung to his skin in a damp sheen, heavy enough that he felt like he breathed water and not air. It would be a relief when it finally did rain. Assuming they were somewhere dry.

Their hostess had them park all of the carts into the sprawling one-story barn she had, generously giving them grain for the horses. It was obvious to all that it was too late in the day to really move on, even if the storm swept through quickly. Nicolo’s stallion was glad to stop and buried his nose in the bucket with a happy swish of the tail.

The barn cat on premises watched him from on top of the stall divider, its black tail neatly wrapped around both front paws. Nicolo stopped to offer a hand for the cat to sniff, which it apparently liked, as the cat deigned to rub its head against his fingers. With a faint smile, Nicolo rubbed at the cat’s ears and under the chin, eliciting a purr.

“You respect Bastet?”

Nicolo turned to regard his hostess. “I do, Mistress Marwa. I try to respect the gods of any land that I’m in.”

Marwa’s dark eyes narrowed just a touch as she studied his face. “Do you? It’s a wise stance to take. After all, your gods are powerless here. It’s best to respect the power of the gods when you’re in their territory.”

“Yes, that’s so. I wasn’t always wise enough to do that but,” here Nicolo grimaced in memory, “time and fate will teach a man one way or another.”

Marwa’s caution faded and she grinned at him, showing crooked teeth. “That they will. Nicholas, you said your name was?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re done here, come in. I’m sure you want a bath after a long day on the road.”

That may or may not have been a hint, but Nicolo was happy to take it anyway. “A bath would be lovely. I’m sure I smell of horse. Can I help you with dinner first?”

Marwa looked surprised at this, then pleased. “I won’t turn down willing help. Bring your gear, I’ll show you to a room.”

Amiable to this, Nicolo did as instructed and followed her. The barn wasn’t far from the house, perhaps two dozen paces, but as short as that distance was, they almost didn’t make it. Nicolo was a few paces shy when the storm overhead decided that was the perfect moment to let go. With a yelp, Nicolo darted the rest of the way, gaining the safety of the house. He turned to stare upwards and blew out a breath. “Well. At least we got in before that hit us. Look at that. You can’t see the barn clearly from here.”

“It’s a mighty storm,” Marwa agreed but there was worry in her tone. “Such storms often set off floods. I hope this one doesn’t. Well, it shouldn’t. We’ve had something of a dry season so far, so the ground should soak up the rain well enough. But the croc’s might come up.”

Alarmed, Nicolo’s head snapped around. “Crocs? As in crocodiles?”

“Yes.” Marwa shrugged, her hand gesturing toward the back of the house. “We have a river nearby that we use. Good for irrigation, but the crocodiles like it too. When it rains hard like this, they don’t like to stay in the river. Water runs too swift for them. They come up onto the banks and sometimes make trouble.”

Not a worry that Nicolo had entertained before, but he did now. “Oh dear. We’ll keep a sharp eye out.”

“I’m glad you and Yusuf are here today,” Marwa admitted, already turning to lead him deeper into the house. “With my husband and son taking things to market, there’s no one here but me. I don’t like facing the crocodiles by myself.”

Neither did Nicolo. And he was armed.

Marwa’s house had quite a few rooms to it, and they must be doing very well indeed as he saw more wood in the construction here than in most Egyptian buildings. She had Nicolo and Yusuf share a back room, what was likely meant for guests or storage, as it was small and had barely room for a bed because of the stacks of bundles along one wall. But it was fine for their needs.

Putting his gear down, Nicolo followed her out and passed Yusuf in the hallway. “Our room is at the very end on the left.”

Yusuf gave him a nod.

With him directed, Nicolo continued to the kitchen. Like most Egyptian houses, there was no division between great room and kitchen, just a table that straddled between the two. Nicolo washed his hands and forearms in the sink under his hostess’ approving eye before going to the table and sitting with onions to chop. She joined him there, mixing in the ingredients into a bowl to start the bread. Nicolo gathered the impression from the pleased expression on her face that she never had help from the men when it came to cooking. But this was another one of those ‘women’s domain’ area of culture that Nicolo didn’t agree with.

Everyone ate, didn’t they? Shouldn’t everyone cook, too?

There was an oath mixed in with a scream coming from the back of the house, just outside of the kitchen. Nicolo was on his feet in a heartbeat, ducking his head out of the door to see what was going on.

Nadir and Asma had been coming in from the barn, a covering over their head to protect them from the rain, but had stopped mid-stride as a crocodile lumbered out of the river and onto the property. The dogs quickly picked up on this and started barking madly, although they kept a healthy distance.

Marwa uttered a curse. “That happened faster than I anticipated.”

“At least it’s the one,” Nicolo muttered, already cross. Turning his head, he bellowed, “YUSUF! WE HAVE A CROCODILE!”

That came out more plaintive sounding than he intended.

Yusuf was already moving toward him, appearing a second later with both of their swords in hand, bless him. He tossed Nicolo’s his, a twinkle in his dark eyes. “It’s fine, my heart. I’ve got this one. You can back me up if I need it.”

“I really do love you,” Nicolo told him, making Yusuf chuckle as he stepped through the door.

Nadir and Asma lost no time in running for the safety of the house, passing Yusuf as he headed out. Nicolo stepped backwards and to the side to let them in, but he returned immediately to the doorway so he could keep an eye on the situation.

“The two of you go get out of those drenched clothes, clean up,” Marwa chided her rescued guests. “I think the men have this.”

“Yes, thank you,” Nadir agreed, already moving.

Yusuf was still closing in on the crocodile, and Nicolo could hear him scold the dogs for being a barking nuisance and to back up already, would you? The dogs didn’t obey, but then, they were likely too excited to understand right now.

Marwa joined him at the door again, her eyes speculative on Nicolo’s face. “So he is…?”

“Mine. Yes.” Nicolo’s mouth worked to offer more, but he couldn’t find any other word to explain it. Yusuf was his lover, beloved, friend, companion, brother-in-arms, and family. They’d made many promises to each other, but their relationship had never been blessed by either priest or a god. There was no good, readily available word that Nicolo knew that could encompass everything that Nicolo was to Yusuf, and all that Yusuf was to Nicolo.

Yusuf was his. That was the best he could explain it.

Marwa’s brows twisted up a little. “I’ve heard you Varangians like male company sometimes, but I thought it rumor. How did you seduce him?”

 _I ran him through with my sword multiple times_ , was not the answer that Nicolo could give her. As he tried to phrase an answer, the worst possible outcome happened.

A second crocodile lumbered into view.

Nicolo sighed. Of course there would be a second crocodile. Because that’s how his luck ran. Growling, he gripped his sword a little tighter. “Excuse me, Mistress Marwa. I don’t think Yusuf can handle two at once.”

Marwa growled a little in the back of her throat, eyes like flint as she stared at the second one. “I really do need to come up with a fence or something. Go on.”

Nicolo stalked out into the rain, almost immediately drenched. He unsheathed his sword as he moved, boots splashing in the mix of rain and mud, feeling the ground turning slicker with every second. Ugh, this would be so unpleasant. Yusuf was still dodging in and out of the crocodile’s range, trying to find an opening that wouldn’t end up with a ripped shirt again.

Yusuf caught sight of him, yelled something that the wind and rain snatched away, and Nicolo growled some more. Really, it had been a perfectly good day before this moment. They were all having a good day. And then, bam! Crocodiles.

The second one was trying to edge around the first, flanking Yusuf. Not on Nicolo’s watch, it wouldn’t. He put his back to Yusuf’s and lunged, swinging more to buy space and back the foul creature up. It ducked instead, then rose up with its own lunge and snap. Nicolo’s reflexes saved him from losing an arm, barely.

Oh so that’s how it wanted to play, eh? Nicolo was frustrated enough to oblige.

What followed was a brutal, hard exchange of lunges, swings, snapping teeth and too much slick mud under Nicolo’s feet. He lost his footing eventually, and chose not to fight it, instead tucking into a roll and coming up on one knee. This put him directly next to the crocodile and he lost no time in burying his sword through the base of its spine. With a shudder, the crocodile gasped a dying breath before stilling.

Finally.

Looking up and around, Nicolo searched for Yusuf, only to find him standing nearby with a bloody sword and a dead crocodile. It seemed they’d both dispatched theirs at roughly the same time. Good.

Yusuf came to him, offering a hand up, which Nicolo was happy to take. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the storm. “Alright?”

For once, a fight with a crocodile hadn’t meant injuries. Just soaking wet clothes covered in mud. Nicolo really needed that bath now. He gave Yusuf a reassuring nod. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Yusuf assured him, already pulling him toward the house. “Bath and dry clothes are in order.”

He was fine with that but Nicolo couldn’t help but tell him, “Egypt would be a fine country if it weren’t for all the bloody crocodiles.”

Yusuf laughed and shrugged agreement.

Nicolo really hoped there weren’t crocodiles anywhere else in the world. That would just be unfair.

***

What with their state, everyone insisted that Nicolo and Yusuf take a bath first. Nicolo actually rinsed and soaped off some, taking a bucket and pouring it over himself, to avoid getting the tub dirty. Only then did he climb in, joining Yusuf. The man welcomed him with open arms, and since the tub was narrow, Nicolo chose to straddle his lap and lean against his chest, pillowing his head on Yusuf’s shoulder. Yusuf wrapped both arms around Nicolo’s waist, sighing in pleasure.

The mix of cool water and warm, male skin was a heady delight. Nicolo knew that people were waiting on the bath themselves, and that dinner was likely to be ready in the next few minutes, but he felt his motivation to make this a quick bath dissipate.

Moments like this while traveling with other people was hard to come by. Moments where it was just them, and no interruptions, and Nicolo could indulge in the feel of Yusuf’s skin against his own. This trip was a bit harder than others, or at least had started that way, because of Asma. Her flirting had been cute but Nicolo chaffed under it, as he didn’t know how to refuse her. Being polite had only seemed to encourage her.

Although she’d stopped after Yusuf’s intervention. Remembering her expression of consternation, Nicolo laughed softly.

“What?”

“Just remembering Asma’s reaction after you kissed me. She looked so crestfallen.”

“Silly girl,” Yusuf muttered, tone indignant.

Amused even more now, Nicolo raised his head and gave Yusuf a quick, affectionate kiss. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

Yusuf spluttered, mouth open on a denial. “Jealous! I’m not jealous. There’s a difference, my love, between being jealous and being territorial. She clearly didn’t understand that you belonged to me. I was establishing my territory so she knew where the line was.”

Nicolo’s brow arched as he stared Yusuf down. Territorial, huh. So that’s how he wanted to play this? “It would be silly for you to be jealous, I suppose. Jealousy means that you don’t understand that I’m utterly yours. Only a jealous person would think that someone could possibly come between us.”

“Precisely.” Yusuf smiled like a man who was vindicated.

Seriously, what was Nicolo supposed to do with this man? Nicolo kissed him again, lingering sweetly. They indulged each other, tongues darting out to flirt and play, hands roaming. Not to arouse, but to titillate. Nicolo sank into his lover with a happy sigh, his hands sliding up into thick, curly hair so he could wrap it around his fingers. Yusuf’s hands slid lower, a finger stroking the crease between Nicolo’s buttocks in a warm caress that promised pleasure. Nicolo shivered a little in delight. Oh yes, please.

There was a knock on the door. “Dinner’s ready!”

They pulled back from the kiss with a sigh. “We’ll be out in a moment!” Yusuf called back.

Nicolo’s body felt like it had been teased with a promise left unfulfilled. But he was hungry, and they couldn’t very well make love in here with people waiting to get in. Sighing, he got out of the tub, water sluicing down bare skin as he moved.

As he toweled off his chest, a hand caressed one butt cheek, giving it a familiar squeeze and Yusuf promised in a low tone next to his ear, “I’ll have you tonight.”

“You just made it much harder to be social and polite for the next few hours,” Nicolo complained.

Yusuf’s grin was not at all apologetic.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo...who's going to tell Nicky that India has both freshwater and saltwater crocodiles?


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had this scene in my head, and it wouldn't connect anything, so I wrote it. It's *squints at chapter sideways* crack. Yeah, let's just call it what it is. It's just tender, tooth-rotting fluffy crack.

* * *

Nicolo couldn’t sleep.

He could blame it on many things. The rocking of the ship, for instance, which he wasn’t used to. He’d experienced worse on the trip down to Jerusalem, for certain, and tonight was rather mild. Or he could blame it on the cramped conditions, with fifteen men all sharing the same room to sleep in. Especially the snoring man in the corner that sounded like a crocodile with a sore tooth, Nicolo would love to blame him.

But Nicolo was not in the habit of lying to himself. He knew very well what the problem was. Yusuf, for the first time since they’d become lovers, wasn’t sleeping next to him. Well, technically he was. Technically Yusuf was right there, within arm’s reach—a fact that Nicolo had actually checked twice—and that should be enough.

It wasn’t.

Nicolo stared at the ceiling in growing frustration. He was thirty years old, for god’s sake. He’d slept alone his entire life until Yusuf. Which was only five months ago, now, give or take. How could five months possibly undo a thirty-year-old habit? And yet here he was, eyes refusing to shut despite his fatigue, growing more irritated by the second because Yusuf was over _there_ while he was _here_ and god, he sounded like a whiny child even to himself.

He’d just grown accustomed to that arm snugged around his waist, the warm press of Yusuf against his back and legs. There was no soft breath against the back of his neck, no scent of his lover filling his head with every inhalation. Nicolo wouldn’t get the soft press of a kiss against the back of his neck as Yusuf woke, or the teasing promise of morning sex.

No, instead his lover was entirely over _there_ and dammit, to hell with every man on board this ship that had a problem with two men in love with each other. He wasn’t going to do this any longer. He’d already spent a night away from Yusuf after they left the docks and that had been difficult. Nicolo assumed he’d adjust and the passage across to Adan would go swiftly. Two days had felt like two decades and it was getting worse, not better.

He was done. Absolutely done.

Hauling his blanket with him, he rolled and put himself right up against Yusuf. His lover proved readily that he hadn’t been sleeping either, despite his eyes being closed, as he welcome Nicolo in immediately. Rolling onto his side, Yusuf put a hand to Nicolo’s hip and snugged him in. Then he whispered directly into Nicolo’s ear, “What is it, my heart?”

“I can’t sleep,” Nicolo grumbled to him. He wiggled until he’d gotten into their usual configuration and it was only then that he felt everything align correctly. Yes, perfect.

Yusuf whispered again, amusement warring with concern, “You don’t think there will be trouble?”

They’d discussed the wisdom of making it obvious they were together before boarding the ship. With such small confines, and in a large body of water, it was a legitimate concern of what might happen. All it took was one bad fruit to ruin the cart, or so the saying went. One man could start trouble and it wasn’t something they could easily combat without it making things even more complicated.

So it probably wasn’t wise, what Nicolo was doing now. But following a former enemy off a battlefield and then falling in love with him shortly afterwards wasn’t exactly wise, either. To hell with wisdom. It was overrated.

“The first person,” Nicolo informed him tartly, “that takes issue with us, I will _personally_ throw overboard.”

Yusuf snorted. “Fair enough.”

He didn’t think he’d get an argument. Yusuf wasn’t any more able to sleep than he was. Nicolo smiled as Yusuf settled in more, his hand coming around Nicolo’s waist so that it could rest near his heart. He held that hand to him, his body and mind settling.

This may or may not cause a battle. But sleeping in Yusuf’s arms was worth the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any bets on Joe beating Nicky to the punch and throwing someone overboard first?


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated on how to write this chapter, which way it would go. This is what felt right to me.

* * *

Nicolo expected a fight.

Not…this.

“I’m sorry?” He couldn’t help but ask because surely he was misunderstanding this situation. Surely. He suddenly lost his grasp on Arabic. That would explain it.

“Don’t be coy.” The young sailor leaned in a little further, hand not quite touching Nicolo’s on the rail. Although he was edging closer by the second, eyes fixated on Nicolo’s mouth. “You know what I mean.”

That’s rather what Nicolo was afraid of, actually. That he understood what the young sailor wanted.

In the entirety of his life, Nicolo had never been approached by a man. Not until Yusuf. And he would like to keep it that way, please and thank you. Yusuf was the only person that he ever wanted to touch him, or want him, and Nicolo really wanted an explanation for why this young man thought Nicolo might be interested in cheating.

Objectively, the young sailor was cute enough. He likely knew this as he was using his large, dark eyes to best advantage by looking up through his lashes at Nicolo. But he wasn’t even remotely tempting. How could he be?

Maybe he’d misunderstood because of how Nicolo and Yusuf acted on the first day aboard the vessel. That could be it. Because they hadn’t made it obvious they were in a relationship that day, it gave the wrong impression. All he had to do was set the record straight, and it would be fine.

At least he’d chosen to try this at the back of the ship, where no one else was a witness. He’d been that smart about approaching Nicolo. Trying to be gentle about it, as a man’s wounded pride was a terrible thing, Nicolo phrased his words carefully. “I think you perhaps don’t know. Yusuf is the love of my life. I’m not interested in betraying him.”

The young sailor—what was his name, anyway?—scoffed at this, stepping further into Nicolo’s space. “Who said anything about betraying? Just a little fun, that’s all.”

Right. That obviously hadn’t worked. Why were youth always so foolhardy? Shaking his head, Nicolo repeated himself and in a firmer tone this time. “No.”

And since that’s all he had left to say about it, Nicolo turned to leave. It was a decent sized ship, and he intended to put as much distance between himself and this misguided youth as possible.

With more speed than should have been possible in this narrow space between cabin and railing, the sailor was around him in a blink, barring his way. “Why are you so resistant? I saw you last night, you know. I saw you roll into his arms and demand to be held. What kind of lover ignores you like that?”

Oh is _that_ where the misunderstanding came from? Nicolo opened his mouth to correct this.

The sailor touched a hand to his chest, a chaste enough contact that sent Nicolo flinching back, as it felt like ants crawling under his skin.

“I won’t let you languish like that.” The sailor frowned at the way Nicolo moved back, a fleeting expression before his smile sprung back. “I’m quite skilled, you know.”

Nicolo wasn’t even tempted. Even if his heart hadn’t been wholly Yusuf’s, this young man wouldn’t stir him. When Nicolo had confessed, Yusuf had spoken of the heart. That was always his priority. This young welp spoke of only the body. It was very clear what he wanted from Nicolo.

Maybe a punch in the nose would deter him. If nothing else, it would make Nicolo feel better. “I quite clearly said no—”

“You dare!” Yusuf appeared from behind the sailor, his expression a thundercloud. “You dare approach what is mine!”

Oh thank God, Allah, or any other deity listening. Yusuf was nearby. Nicolo breathed out in relief, as he was tired of dealing with this horny idiot.

The sailor turned, righteous in his stance. “You ignore him until he begs for your attention. You should be ashamed to say he is yours.”

“My Nico is my heart,” Yusuf shot back, squaring off with the man. “He is the sun upon my face, the warmth on a cold winter’s night. Just as the stars cannot be separated from the heavens, so are our hearts entwined. His love changes the flow of time for me that I ever wish for it to stop so that I may bask in his smile. _You_ do not get to tell me what he is to me.”

“Nor tell me what he is to me,” Nicolo tacked on, voice hardening. “Yusuf is my beloved, and I have no interest in anyone else. Respect that.”

The sailor looked put out that he was overturned on all sides. Nicolo looked past him and informed Yusuf with brow cocked in challenge, “You know, the reason why he thinks I’m easy to seduce away from you is because you didn’t sleep wrapped around me all night.”

Yusuf shoved past the sailor and immediately pulled Nicolo into his arms. “A mistake I will not repeat.”

Both of them ignored it when the horny sailor spun on a heel and stomped off. Nicolo was too busy kissing Yusuf, partially in thanks for coming to the rescue, as he really didn’t know how to deal with that. But mostly because after such a sweet declaration from his lover, he just had to kiss him.

Yusuf pulled back a little to ask seriously, “Did he really think that because I wasn’t sleeping next to you that first night, you were available?”

“It was more that he saw me last night roll in next to you and ask to be held. He thought I was being neglected.” Nicolo shrugged. “A neglected lover is easy prey, to his mind.”

“He’s not wrong, but….” Yusuf’s brow pinched in worry. “My heart, do you feel neglected? Have I made you feel that way?”

“What?! No! That was just his opinion. I know the only reason why you didn’t sleep with me that first night was because we were trying to be discreet.” Where had that worry even come from?

Yusuf relaxed. “Good. I don’t want you to feel that way. Your heart is where I live.”

“You’re such an incurable romantic.” Smiling, Nicolo kissed him, a sweet exchange of lips and breath. Nicolo thought that after months of kissing Yusuf, he might grow accustomed to it. And it wasn’t new, that was true, but there was still a thrill that went through him every time they touched. He hoped it would always be that way.

Miraculously, no one else came looking for him. Nicolo put his back to the wall, Yusuf snugly cradled against his chest and enjoyed leisurely kissing his lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe, you're not allowed to sleep apart from Nicky from now on. The Nicky has spoken.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was doing some research, everything you see mentioned in this chapter popped up as happening during that year. Odds are, Andy and Quynh really were part of that clash or in some other clash nearby, as there were quite a few wars going on that year. Also of interest - Xi Xia, otherwise known as the Tangut Empire, was so buried in history that it's only in the 20th Century that we've been able to unbury information about them. 
> 
> But since everyone in those days used the Silk Road to get across the continent, it only made sense to put Joe and Nicky on it.

* * *

Nadir’s brother welcomed them all in warmly, had Yusuf and Nicolo stay with them three days. Nadir was keen on helping them find more work, as he had taken a liking to them. Yusuf encouraged this generosity and they lingered long enough for some introductions to be made.

What Nadir had failed to mention during the entire trip was that his family produced and sold frankincense. It was a very expensive commodity that everyone in the world liked, as it was used as both perfume and medicine. The Asian countries in particular couldn’t seem to buy enough of it. Trading Chinese silk with frankincense was the easiest swap in the world.

Nadir’s brother had a shipment to send out, and a trader to send it with, but the trader was short on guards. He’d feel better if Yusuf and Nicolo went with them, and they wanted to go east anyway, right?

Yusuf promptly took the job even though it meant another journey on a ship. It would hopefully be fine.

Three days of excellent hospitality later, they went to their new job and met the trader on the Adan city docks. The place was crowded and bustling, multiple ships at dock and being loaded with cargo. The sea air was pungent in Yusuf’s nose with brine and water but not unpleasantly. What he’d liked best was no sign of bad weather in sight. The skies were clear.

He had to duck, stop dead a few times, and slip sideways to avoid being run over. If there was a flow to the traffic on the docks, it escaped Yusuf. He knew this was one of the ports on the Silk Road, but wasn’t it a little too busy? His stallion kept bumping into him as Yusuf was forced to move in ever more versatile ways.

“Oh, I think I see him,” Nicolo said at his side, popping up on toes to see better over the crowd of men.

“Short man, hands gesturing every direction, looks like a strong wind could blow him over?”

“That’s him.” Nicolo took hold of Yusuf’s hand and towed him in the right direction, their horses following.

Bohai stood on top of a crate, a checklist in hand and he gestured authoritatively with the other as he directed his cargo on board. On seeing Yusuf, he stopped yelling at some dockhand and waved. “There you are, good timing! This is your partner?”

“Yes, this is Nicolo.” There was no need to pretend Nicolo was any other nationality here. On the Silk Road, all nationalities were seen, and no one thought much of it. They were far enough out now that the war at Jerusalem wasn’t the first thing on everyone’s minds.

The two men exchanged bows of greeting, Bohai curiously taking him in. This was the first time they’d met, after all. “A pleasure and I’m glad to have both of you. I’m shorthanded this season due to that wench’s ambitions.”

Nicolo partially followed this because of Yusuf’s explanation the night before but he was clearly uncertain on the rest. “I’m sorry, who?”

Bohai yanked on the braided tail of hair hanging over his shoulder, an agitated tic. “Regent of the Tangut Empire. Second time she’s tried this, you know. Invading Liao and Song, I mean. First time, she was regent because her son was only two years old. Now, it’s her grandson who’s not old enough, and she’s back at it. Keeps pulling in every able-bodied man to fight her wars. I’d be in it too if I was fighting fit.”

Yusuf followed this somewhat. He didn’t know much of the Asian area, just what information he’d learned from hearsay over the years and what he’d been told prior to Bohai hiring them. He knew Tangut to be on the path of the Silk Road, so it was land they had to cross through at some point. Normally he wouldn’t even imagine going into an area that was war torn when he had no stake in it. But the dreams he had of the two women clearly showed them fighting, so Yusuf harbored hopes that was the war they were in.

Really, the world was always at war in some place or another. Choosing the right one to investigate, that was the trick.

Nicolo asked in concern, “But isn’t it foolhardy to attack two places at once? A war on two fronts leads to defeat, usually.”

“Well, I know that,” Bohai said, still with that wrinkled expression of disgust on his face. “And you know that. Problem is, she doesn’t. But that’s not the issue at the moment. I’m an hour or so from being loaded. Throw your gear on board, settle your horses. We’ll be underway shortly.”

They gave him a nod and drew their horses towards the gangplank. The cargo hold had quite a few mules, wagons, and many crates of goods all stacked up. They chose the two stalls at the end to put their horses, setting them up with water and some grain. Yusuf had grown rather fond of his stallion, and snuck him a carrot after he had him settled, stroking his neck. The stallion took it with a happy crunch.

Nicolo leaned in to Yusuf’s side to ask in a low tone, “Did you know about that ongoing war?”

“No, I hadn’t heard of it until just now. I’d just been told that Bohai was short on guards this trip. But it gives me hope that we’re going in the right direction.”

As they’d both had dreams of the women fighting in a land and under a banner that neither man recognized, they had to assume it was in a country that neither had been in. East seemed a reasonable destination for that reason. Nicolo chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Even if it’s not the right one, I suppose it’s as good a place to start as any.”

“I agree. And think of it this way, my heart. We’re able to travel with all expenses paid and we earn money to boot. It can’t hurt to—why do you have that strange expression on your face?” Yusuf turned to look where Nicolo was staring in consternation.

Oh. He’d spotted the crocodile skins rolled up near the crates.

“Yusuf,” Nicolo asked this question with growing alarm, “are there crocodiles in this country?”

One of the dockhands nearby put his burden down before turning and regarding Nicolo with a strange look. “Course there are. Mostly on the eastern coast, but we get them here, too.”

Nicolo turned an accusatory look on Yusuf. “Did you know about this?”

“I didn’t.” Yusuf found his lover’s abhorrence of crocodiles beyond amusing but he did still possess some survival instincts. He didn’t let even a hint of a smile peek out. “Do not be alarmed, my heart. We’ll sail past them in no time.”

“I’d rather pirates than crocodiles,” Nicolo muttered, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

The dockhand helpfully pitched in, “We see more crocodiles than we do pirates.”

Yusuf pointed a finger at him. “You are not helpful. Go away.”

Shrugging, the dockhand went back to carrying cargo in.

Nicolo asked as plaintively as a child told that unicorns weren’t real, “Why are there crocodiles in the ocean too?”

Can’t laugh, can’t laugh…Yusuf put an arm around his waist and kissed his forehead, trying to be supportive. “I won’t let them get you, Nico.”

Nicolo accepted the support but still grumbled, “I’d still rather fight pirates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicky's not kidding, either.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Nicky called on Murphy, not that Murphy's Laws existed at that point.

* * *

Yusuf wiped rain out of his eyes with one hand, a futile gesture considering the downpour they were currently experiencing. It could be blood, it could be rain, but either way he had the devil of a time seeing. Between the cracks of lightning and the waves slapping at the side of the ship, he tracked his Nico by ear. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the two men trying to circle him.

The storm was brutal, bashing the two ships lashed together, and the wood hulls creaked and moaned in protest. He could hear the animals down below also voicing their displeasure in high pitched squeals and Yusuf didn’t blame them for that one bit. Would care to join them, in fact.

Damn the pirates for their rotten timing. They likely thought that using the storm to cover their approach a brilliant plan. And it had hid them rather well, giving them the edge in ambushing the trading vessel. There were just a few flaws to the plan. They were battered by the same storm, for one. And with the rain pelting down so hard, it was difficult to distinguish friend from foe.

Unfortunately, they didn’t regret it enough to disengage.

Something warm and solid touched his back briefly, but it didn’t alarm Yusuf as he knew precisely who it was.

“Just for the record,” Nicolo shouted at him, “I still prefer this over crocodiles!”

Yusuf snorted a laugh but he had no time to banter with his lover just then. He lunged, slicing at one pirate to force the man back, giving him a few seconds to clash blades with the other. He had no interest in being locked there and kicked the man’s legs out from underneath him, ramming his sword through the man’s chest before whirling and attacking the second.

Nicolo kept anyone from charging at his exposed back as he dealt with the second pirate. The pirate had little skill and kept sliding on the slick deck. Yusuf didn’t even have to exert himself much to deal with that one. Then he turned, desperately trying to keep track of Nicolo in the madness. Heaven forbid Nicolo lose his footing and go over the railing. It would be a nightmare fishing him back out of this storm-tossed sea.

The other sailors were handy with cudgels and irate at having to deal with this nonsense when they should be trying to keep a ship on course. They attacked the pirates with no mercy, and none was offered in return. Nicolo waded in, going from one patch of the ship to the other, protecting whoever he could.

Yusuf stayed right in step with him, ensuring that no one got behind the man. Nicolo could (and had) focused so much on protecting someone else that it opened him up to danger instead. Yusuf would not let that happen if he could help it.

They fought, and turned, and fought again, growing closer to the pirate ship. Yusuf chose to chop at the ropes holding the two ships together, cutting their metal claws free. Those pirates that noticed yelled in dismay and quickly scrambled back towards their ship. They were trapped rats here without an exit if they didn’t make it.

Yusuf and Nicolo made absolutely certain they didn’t make it.

The storm pulled the two ships apart, the pirate ship now working with only a few sailors left to man it. It drifted out, and in minutes, it was lost from view entirely.

Panting for breath, Yusuf turned, and found no opponent to meet him. He shifted and turned again, but only Nicolo, the other sailors, and slain bodies greeted him. “Are we done?”

“I want to check the hold, make sure no one’s down there,” Nicolo panted back, wiping rain and blood away from his face with the back of his hand.

Yusuf looked him over. It was hard to tell, what with the way they were both sprayed in blood and their clothes drenched to them. “Are you hurt?”

“Not anymore,” Nicolo responded with a wry smile. “Cabins first?”

“Yes.” Yusuf led the way, sword at the ready. The cabins on top weren’t large, three in total—kitchen, crews’ quarters, captain’s quarters. They cleared it in a minute flat and then went down into the hold. The animals were upset, some of the crates opened as if the pirates had been trying to grab an armful of something quickly. But there wasn’t anyone in sight, at least.

Bohai came down in a huff, his short sword also at the ready but upon seeing the two of them, relaxed. “Alright? Just you two down here?”

“Just us,” Yusuf assured him. “We’ve searched most of the ship, I think the only pirates left are dead. Who all is hurt?”

“Fortunately few, it seems like. But I owe most of that to the two of you. You are indeed a formidable pair.” Bohai beamed at them, and despite looking like a drowned rat, he couldn’t have been happier. “You two just earned your pay and then some. Let’s clean this mess up.”

Cleanup was a dirty business. They waded back through the upper deck, tossing bodies over the side. Nicolo stopped in the crews’ cabin to help dress wounds, putting stitches in where they were needed. Yusuf knew that Nicolo hadn’t thought he’d use his sewing skills quite like this, but it helped the injured. And Nicolo preferred to help where he could.

Yusuf gladly surrendered his hammock bed to an injured man, helping to settle people. It was near midnight by the time the ship was more or less set to rights. It was too crowded in the crew’s cabin to begin with, but it was worse now. There wasn’t a finger’s width of space to be had. Yusuf surveyed the situation and made a snap decision. He grabbed his gear and Nicolo’s before going back down into the hold.

There wasn’t much space to be had down here, just enough to get to the animals and see to them. But with some clever rearranging, Yusuf managed to wall off a little space and use some of the softer trade goods, like the rugs, as bedding. It turned into a cozy nest. Yusuf was proud of his efforts but his priority was getting Nicolo into it.

“What are you doing?” Nicolo stepped off the staircase and strode to him, still trailing damp prints. The storm hadn’t really abated much.

“Building us a cozy nest.” Yusuf made a ta-da gesture with one hand.

Nicolo poked his head around the crates and surveyed it with longing. “That does look inviting. Good job, my love. Let’s get into it.”

Yusuf was happy Nicolo liked it. They stripped off wet clothes, hanging them on various things to dry, and both of them took towels and dried each other off. It was cool in the hold, unpleasantly so, and neither were in the mood to linger. They squirreled under the blankets, pressed closed and Nicolo gave a happy sigh as he settled his head on Yusuf’s shoulder.

“Nico,” Yusuf couldn’t help but ask, “why are pirates better than crocodiles?”

“Pirates you can convince to go away.”

He did have a point. At least pirates could be semi-reasoned with.

Yusuf had thoughts of seducing his Nico once they got into this little den of privacy. But now that he was in it, he found himself far too comfortable to contemplate doing anything energetic. And Nicolo was half-asleep already.

“There’s a bottle of oil in this right corner,” Nicolo murmured sleepily.

“If that’s a hint, my love, I’ll gladly take it. And you.”

“In the morning,” Nicolo responded, the words slurring. “’m too sleepy now.”

It had been an exhausting day. Yusuf hummed agreement, kissed Nicolo on the forehead, and altered his plan for a morning seduction.

Nicolo turned, pulling Yusuf with him so that they were in what Yusuf thought of as ‘their’ position, with him curled around Nicolo’s back. That’s all his mind needed to pull him straight into dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when relationships get to this point. 
> 
> Nicky: You're sexy honey, I want you, but do me in the morning, kay?  
> Joe: Morning it is. 
> 
> That kind of intimacy between two people is it's own version of sexy, in my book.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to popular request, more smut!

* * *

Nicolo was a little shy about admitting this to Yusuf, but even while sleeping, he dreamed of Yusuf. The dreams had started months and months ago, when they’d barely been friends. The dreams of then where tame in comparison to now, as Nicolo had only had hearsay to know what two men might get up to in bed. When Yusuf had made love to him that first night, it had been educational to say the least, and his mind had catalogued everything. And chosen to relive it in exquisite detail while Nicolo dreamed.

Because of that (rather vivid) dream that still had him in its grasp, Nicolo didn’t realize at first that Yusuf’s hands on him were real. He blinked slowly awake, still wrapped up in the golden haze of dream-pleasure, only to smile. Yusuf’s mouth on the join of his neck, sucking a mark into his skin, was all too lovely. As was the pinch of finger and thumb against his nipple, making him squirm and sigh.

“Are you awake, my heart?” Yusuf breathed against his skin, his hand dancing lightly down Nicolo’s bare chest towards the juncture of his thighs.

“Yes,” Nicolo breathed, loving every second of this. There was a distinct hardness pressed up against his back and he rather wanted to do something with it.

Yusuf’s hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing warmly, his thumb tracing around the head in that way that drove Nicolo a little mad. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut as he indulged himself in his lover’s touch. “Yu-Yusuf—”

“You’re so beautiful like this, submitting to my touch like you were born to do so.” Yusuf trailed kisses up his neck, biting playfully at his earlobe. “I want to take you from behind.”

“Do it,” Nicolo groaned. Where was the thrice cursed oil? He’d had it squirreled away in the corner last night—

Nicolo stopped searching for it as he heard the top of the bottle pop free. Of course Yusuf had it. Nicolo might mourn the loss of that very knowing hand, but he liked what would come next even better. He turned a little onto his front, stretching a leg upwards to give Yusuf the right access. When nothing happened after a few seconds, he tilted his head back to see what was delaying the proceedings.

Yusuf stared at him like a man enchanted, frozen with his fingers dipped into the top of the jar.

Bemused, Nicolo prompted, “What?”

“My love, my heart, light of my life, have pity,” Yusuf whimpered, eyes roving over Nicolo like a man presented with a gourmet feast. “If you display yourself like that to me without warning, I will either swallow my tongue or my heart will stop utterly.”

Nicolo snorted in amusement. Really, the man could be so absurd sometimes. “You’ve seen me like this most mornings for months now.”

“I assure you, I am not immune to your charms. Nor the sight of you like this. I doubt I ever will be.”

Part of the reason why Nicolo so loved this man was Yusuf’s wonderful way of assuring him, through words and actions, just how enamored he was. Nicolo was never in any doubt of where he stood with his lover. It melted his heart every time. He turned, shifting their positions so that it was Yusuf on his back, Nicolo straddling his waist.

“You know, every day I think I can’t love you any more than I do now.” Nicolo leaned in to kiss him, deeply, Yusuf giving back just as good as got. Nicolo pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth, “And then you say something like that, and I fall for you all over again.”

“Then I should tell you that I love you more often,” Yusuf murmured back.

Nicolo shivered as two fingers found his opening and massaged oil into him, gently thrusting and stretching. It was always delightful, being touched there. Yusuf didn’t mind being taken, enjoyed it. But Nicolo was so enchanted with being filled that he asked for it more and more. On mornings like this, Yusuf indulged him. Well, Yusuf always indulged him. Nicolo knew himself to be spoiled by his lover.

He gathered his wits together enough to reply on a gasp, “If you tell me that too often, we’ll only feed into each other’s desires and we’ll never leave a bed.”

“You say this like it’s a bad thing.” Yusuf tilted him down, trailing oil in little splatters as he guided himself in.

Nicolo leaned back, his hands on Yusuf’s chest for balance as he took his lover in, enchanted with the slide of that thick, hot hardness. Ah yes, that’s what he’d craved even while dreaming. He couldn’t continue the debate, if that’s what it was. Right now, Nicolo had no desire to be anywhere else, couldn’t imagine doing anything else but riding this man until they were both sweaty and glowing with pleasure.

Yusuf’s hands found his hips as Nicolo started the pace they both liked, deep and hard, sparking that spot deep inside that made it feel as if his body tremored. His breath quickened in his lungs, sweat dewing his skin. Yusuf’s eyes were pitch black with hunger, mouth parted on his own pants. His hands dug in, deep enough to bruise, urging Nicolo on to go harder, faster.

He could feel himself shaking, his body clamoring for release. Yusuf must have felt the urge too, as his hand came around to grip Nicolo’s cock, still slick with some of the oil. He stroked him firmly in time with the thrusts. Nicolo threw his head back, unable to look at Yusuf any longer without losing himself entirely. His groin tightened and tingled as pleasure overloaded his body.

Yusuf’s hips slammed upwards as he came with a hoarse, strangled shout. Nicolo was close behind, enjoying that hot rush inside of him. He shot all over Yusuf’s chest, then sat there, panting as the afterglow of good sex washed over him. Ah, there. There was that contented smile Yusuf always wore after making love. Nicolo lived for that smile.

He leaned in to taste it, and Yusuf kissed back with a slow, content pleasure. It was just too easy to love this man. Really, the idea of staying in bed all day was highly appealing.

One of the horses tapped an impatient hoof against the wood, a silent demand for breakfast now that the humans were done. Nicolo broke the kiss with a soft huff of laughter. “Someone’s impatient for food.”

“Mmm,” Yusuf agreed languidly. “My own stomach is in agreement. And I suppose we need to go up and see how the day fairs after last night’s fiasco.”

“Probably.” Belying his own words, he leaned in to kiss Yusuf again. Nicolo liked to think that he had his priorities straight and kissing Yusuf was always a priority.

His own stomach chimed in for sustenance, if you please. Sighing, Nicolo pulled back and then pulled away completely. Really, bodies could be so inconvenient. And it wasn’t like he actually _needed_ to eat, probably.

They cleaned up and dressed, using the privacy afforded by Yusuf’s clever stacking of the crates last night. If not for them, he’d not have had the courage to indulge in Yusuf this morning. Nicolo was not so free that he wanted an audience, especially an accidental one. Nicolo looked about at them, considering. “Yusuf? Do you think that we can keep things arranged like this until we arrive?”

“I’m sure Bohai will let us.” Yusuf’s grin was masked by a straight face. “If they do argue, I can make a good case in favor of keeping it like this.”

Nicolo eyed him sideways, pausing with only one boot semi-on. “I don’t trust that expression.”

“Nor should you,” Yusuf agreed cheerfully.

Oh dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are wise, Nicky. Do not trust Joe. He will say absolutely anything to get what he wants.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History note: Archery has always been a huge thing in the Asian countries. Even at 1000 BC they were making advancements for the bow, but it wasn't something that really carried over well to the rest of the world. Advancements in archery were kind of hit and miss depending on which country you were in. But the Asian countries really liked it, to the point that learning archery was considered one of the pillars of being a well-rounded individual. Even Confucius was an archery teacher and believed it to be a good way to settle competitions. 
> 
> I caught up with the comics and noted a few things. We see this some in the movie, but it's more obvious in the comics that Nicky is the sniper in the team. I figure, why not start that now? He's heading into Asian countries, where he'll have lots of exposure to it. He'd likely pick it up there anyway.

* * *

Because of the distraction of the pirates, the sailors had not been able to furl the sails up in time. The storm last night had ripped through the fabric in a few places, and necessitated a repair. As Nicolo wanted them back on land, he pitched in and joined the other sailors that were mending it. They sat on the part of the deck that was mostly out of the way, the sail strewn across their laps, and steadily put needle through cloth.

“It’s good to have you,” Xin said to him in crude Latin, the accent a bit thick on the vowels. He paused to straighten out his thread before flashing Nicolo a smile. “You and your partner, you fight well.”

“Thank you,” he responded with a smile of his own. “You often have trouble with pirates?”

“Hmm, sometimes.” Xin’s weathered face wrinkled up in a disgruntled frown. “Especially in spring, people travel. Trade picks up. The pirates tend to come out thick then, like flies.”

The sailor on Nicolo’s other side, Gan, snorted darkly. “Worst trip we had, three pirate ships attacked before we saw land again. Lost half the crew. We only lost three last night, so we’re lucky this trip. If we’d been able to use a bow, wouldn’t have had as much trouble fighting them off. Damn storm.”

Nicolo didn’t have much experience with archers. It wasn’t something they used much in his division while fighting. He knew of crossbows, people tended to like those as they were faster than bows, supposedly. And with more penetrating power. But that’s really about as much as he knew. “You’re an archer, Gan?”

“It’s my preference. At least, when the heavens aren’t intent on drowning us.” Gan caught his interest and his hands paused, dark eyes sharp on Nicolo’s face. “You?”

“I’ve never really picked up a bow,” Nicolo admitted. “I was only ever taught the sword.”

“Would you like to learn?”

Nicolo thought about it. Thought about learning a new skill that meant an easier time hunting game while traveling. About being able to pick off enemies from a distance and saving himself from more holes in his clothes. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. “I’d love to. I’m not sure if I’ll be any good with it.”

Gan waved this off. “Takes practice. The more you practice, the better you are. After we get the sail up, I’ll teach you.”

“Thank you very much.” Nicolo beamed at him.

Gan might have been a bit red under his copper skin as he muttered, “Don’t thank me. It’s an apology.”

Nicolo stared at him blankly. As far as he was aware, Gan had done nothing to him. “For what?”

“For thinking badly of you. And Yusuf.” Gan sighed and then forced his head up, looking at Nicolo squarely. “First night you were on board, it was obvious. You two are lovers. Most of us weren’t comfortable with it but kept our mouths shut. No reason to start an argument on a small ship. Not until you or Yusuf did something. But you only have eyes for him.”

Nicolo nodded as this was a given.

“He only has eyes for you. I realized after a few days there wasn’t a reason for me to feel as I did. I didn’t understand it, but it wasn’t for me to understand, either. I was awkward and short with you and still, last night you came readily to my defense. You pulled my brother back before he could take a header into the sea. You’re a good man, Nicolo. Even if you do like male company.”

Well. That was rather more frank than Nicolo had bargained for. He cocked his head and decided to be frank in turn. Why not? Get the air completely cleared while he had a chance to. “I never thought of you as acting strange around me, I just thought you a reserved man. There’s no hard feelings there.”

Gan blinked at him, startled into a half-smile. “Truly?”

“Yes. But I have to correct you on one point. It’s not that I like male company. I just like Yusuf’s.”

Xin cleared his throat, eyes darting between the two of them. “Just him? Never any other?”

“No,” Nicolo answered honestly. Before Yusuf, he’d never allowed himself to look at someone else sexually, either, but that was rather beside the point. Nicolo was reasonably sure that if he and Yusuf had met five years ago, ten years ago, he’d still have broken every vow and pursued the man anyway. Such was Yusuf’s draw. “Just him. It will always be just him.”

A warm hand settled at the base of his neck before Nicolo’s mouth was taken in a sweet kiss. He smiled against it, not questioning how Yusuf had heard him even though he was ostensibly talking to the ship’s captain and not eavesdropping over here. Yusuf seemed to have a sixth sense for these things.

Drawing back, Yusuf stayed kneeling next to him. “What are we talking about over here?”

“Archery lessons,” Nicolo answered, smiling at him a little helplessly.

“How does archery lessons tie into love declarations for my fabulous self?”

“That’s rather complicated. But Gan’s offered to teach me the basics.”

“Always a good skill to acquire,” Yusuf agreed. “Here, lend me a needle and I’ll pitch in.”

Nicolo shifted to make room for him, they found another needle in the box and Yusuf got settled, threading it easily. He’d gotten better at sewing, just as Nicolo had. They were, unfortunately, getting far too much practice in.

Yusuf plied needle through thread all while asking, “Gan, what do you use? Recurve bow?”

“Yes, you’re familiar with it?”

“Somewhat. I’ve seen them in use, at least.” To Nicolo, Yusuf explained, “It’s not that new of a design, but it tends to be the Asian countries that like to use it the most. It’s a shorter, more compact bow. Better for horseback as it doesn’t have the same length as a long bow. Takes more strength to draw, though.”

“Has its shortcomings,” Gan agreed. “But good to hunt with, especially if you’re mounted. I like it for the ship as it’s easier to store, doesn’t take as much room. And easier to use in these tight quarters.”

“I can see how that would be the case. Nico, if you prove to like it, we’ll invest in one when we get to shore. It’ll be good to have it.”

“We’ll have to see if I’m any good at it, too.” Nicolo rather hoped that would be the case, though. It would truly come in handy. Leaning in, he murmured for Yusuf’s ears only, “What of our sleeping arrangements? The ship’s captain doesn’t mind them?”

“I talked him into it,” Yusuf answered a touch too brightly.

Nicolo stared at him, suspicion rearing its head. “Talked? Or threatened?”

“Persuaded him to see my viewpoint, if you will.” Yusuf’s smile turned positively angelic.

Nicolo did not trust that smile. Not one tiny bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Nicky. Joe didn't threaten the captain. 
> 
> It was more what he DIDN'T say.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cultural gaps! Because Nicky was about due for one. And I'm evil.

* * *

The thing about being on board ship was there wasn’t really much to do. Not if you were a passenger, at least. Nicolo helped out where he could, but most of the time it was him, a target, and Gan’s bow. He felt himself improve a little, day by day, as he became smoother at draw, aim, release.

Gan taught him the fundamentals. To knock the arrow on the outside of the string, how to keep multiple arrows in his right hand so he could quickly knock and release. How to adjust for distance, for the wind, for poor lighting. By the time they reached land, Nicolo was itching to really test his skills. A ship only had so much space to practice in, after all.

They landed in Basra, a port city at the junction of the Arabian Sea. Bohai had mentioned they’d travel east towards Esfahan, connect to the Silk Road from there. Nicolo had smiled and nodded, having no clue where that was. He was officially in land that he’d never seen a map for.

Yusuf hadn’t been this direction either but he disembarked with a lively interest, his head turning this way and that as he took the city in. The city itself didn’t have a deep harbor, rather the port was at Umm Qasr, so they weren’t in Basra itself just yet. But it was hard to tell because of how connected it was.

The first thing that struck Nicolo as they walked down the gangplank was the heat. It was incredibly warm here, far more than he’d expected. Or did being on a sailing ship with the coolness of the water and the air flowing past him just made land feel hotter in comparison? Either way, this didn’t bode well. Nicolo hoped that he’d either acclimate or this was an unseasonably warm day.

It was late afternoon now, so Bohai instructed them to unload, go to an inn. They wouldn’t try to travel any further today. This sounded blissful to him. Nicolo was dying for something that wasn’t ship’s fare.

Because he had no idea where they were going, Nicolo stuck close to everyone else. He kept an eye out for thieves as a matter of course, taking in the city as he moved. It was quite crowded, which he expected of a major port city. Clean, too, which he also appreciated. A sultan ruled this area of the world, a Turk according to Yusuf. Nicolo wasn’t quite sure on this. Were Turkish bathhouses a thing? Nicolo assumed so, since he was still in Muslim culture. But could he find one? It hadn’t been possible to really wash on ship except out of a basin and he missed his baths.

He had no chance to ask until they were settled at the inn. With the horses in the stables, the goods in a private holding yard at the back of the inn, and rooms assigned to the people, he was able to catch his breath. They more or less convened at the tavern downstairs, following their noses towards the delectable food smells.

Someone had snagged a table near the center of the room, and everyone piled around it, calling out orders for food, drinks, anything at hand. The table didn’t have quite enough room to accommodate everyone, but that just meant Nicolo had an excuse to sit snuggled in next to Yusuf. Judging from the warm look his lover gave him, Yusuf did not at all mind.

It was noisy in here, the dinner crowd a little rowdy as men slid slowly into their cups. Nicolo leaned into Yusuf’s side and spoke into his ear to make sure he was heard. “Are there bathhouses nearby?”

“Yes. We’ll find one after dinner. My skin itches for a tub of water.”

“Mine too.” Nicolo would literally kill someone if it meant a proper bath.

He turned his head to see if the serving girl was anywhere nearby with their food, as he’d like to eat and go before they lost all daylight. As he turned his head, he caught sight from the corner of his eye as a man reached out and grabbed one of the girls—she couldn’t have been more than sixteen—by the arse and give it a squeeze. The girl jumped, pulling sharply away from him and all the man did was laugh.

Nicolo’s vision turned red around the edges. He did not like this behavior from men, not one iota. He leaned back, snagging the man’s wrist in a hard grip and rebuked him. “No. You do not touch a woman that way.”

The man sneered back, yanking hard on his wrist to free it. He wasn’t a bad looking sort, but the expression on his face turned him ugly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, foreigner.”

“I know that a man shouldn’t touch a woman who isn’t his wife. And she clearly isn’t.” Nicolo gave the girl a nod, encouraging her to leave. She flashed him a quick, thankful smile and then scampered out of range. Not that Nicolo wanted this to turn into a fight, but a man like this didn’t take correction well.

Yusuf turned as well, looking to see what the problem was, a frown on his face.

The man jerked again, belligerent. “She was asking for it!”

“She was serving your drinks,” Nicolo shot back, exasperated. “She wasn’t asking to be groped. Shame on you. Are you a dog? Can you not control your base urges?”

From the deathly silence that spread out around Nicolo, you’d think he’d just insulted the man’s mother.

“Oh, here we go,” Yusuf muttered in resignation.

After that startled beat of silence, the man exploded from his bench, using Nicolo’s hold on him to yank him out of his own. Nicolo reacted on instinct, his war-honed reflexes saving him from a punch in the face, but he took the second hit solidly to the stomach. He fought back, bewildered by this turn of events, but not willing to take a beating just because he was confused.

And the man wasn’t a better fighter than Nicolo, anyway, so it was fairly easy to knock him back into his circle of friends.

What Nicolo didn’t expect was the friends to be doubly insulted by this and dive into the fray after him.

Yusuf moved quickly to protect his flank and what followed was nothing but a brawl. Nicolo wasn’t even drunk and he was _still_ somehow in a drunken brawl. His sailor friends joined in, seeing that he and Yusuf were outnumbered, and Nicolo was glad for the support but dismayed because that just added even more people into this fight and oh God above—was the whole tavern fighting?

Yesss…that’s exactly what it looked like. Nicolo would have felt bad about that, but he took a punch to the face, head snapping back in sharp pain, and that rather jolted him back into the fighting portion of the evening. He could think and apologize for it all later.

It was frantic for several minutes, different tables and benches and chairs taking the brunt of their anger, breaking off in sharp snaps of sound. City guards came in to break them all up, the people knocked unconscious were cleared out by friends and family, which was just as well as the fight didn’t seem to have any end in sight. The guard hauled out anyone that didn’t stop fighting when they said so, which meant they took the belligerent ones with them. Everyone else picked themselves up as they could, wincing and prodding at whatever was bloodied.

Nicolo eventually ended up on a bench with Yusuf wiping blood away from a (once) bloodied lip. “I do not understand just what I said to get him so mad. Or was he mad that I corrected him?”

Yusuf had that quirk to his mouth that said he was amused and trying not to show it. “Nico, my heart, I must explain something to you that I think I failed to tell you before.”

Nicolo eyed him suspiciously. “Is this another of those cultural differences?”

“Indeed, my love. Dog is the worst insult you can say in this culture. When you compared him to one, a fight was inevitable.”

Oh. Oops.

The tavern’s owner came to them, wiping his hands off on the apron tied around his waist. A slim man, he looked harried and rather murderous over the state of his tavern, but still gave Nicolo a tight smile. “Not true. You can also say he is the son of a dog, insulting him and his whole family.”

“I’ll remember that,” Nicolo answered with a wince. Whether to use or to avoid, he’d definitely remember. “I’m so sorry about the fighter, Owner. Can I help pay for the damages?”

“It was my niece you were defending, so no, you may not. The damages I’ll take out of that other shoe’s purse.”

Shoe? Nicolo had heard the phrase ‘ya gazma’ often in Egypt, but he thought that more regional slang, to call someone a dirty shoe as an insult. Apparently, it had made its way out here, too. But that was the owner’s niece? “She’s alright?”

“She’s fine, and thankful that you defended her. As am I. So no, I won’t accept money from you. Her father owns the bath house next door. He’s expecting both of you, as his daughter told him what you did, and he’ll treat you tonight.”

“That’s very kind of him.” And after the fight, Nicolo most certainly needed a bath.

“I think it’s the least he can do. Go on, I’ll clean this up.”

Nicolo sensed they were in the way, and stood, trying not to knock into any broken benches or skewed tables in the process. It was a bit of a mess in here.

Yusuf took his hand as they left, leading the way out, and threw over his shoulder, “As we soak, I’ll explain more of the insults.”

“Probably wise,” Nicolo agreed dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously love the insults of other cultures. Some of them are so amazingly creative. I must find a way to use more of them.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andy makes her entrance! Well, sort of.

* * *

Yusuf could boast that he’d been on the Silk Road before, many times, but he’d never ventured this far east. Bohai had chosen to strike due east from Basra, going through the Persian Gates and over the mountains. They were all thankful for it, as the mountains were decidedly cooler. Basra had threatened to bake them all alive. Yusuf had no idea why anyone would choose to live in a place so ridiculously hot, trade route or no trade route.

They stopped for the night in a place just past the Persian Gates, a town that was semi-connected to it. It meant fresh water at hand, a bounty of it, so baths were had by all. Yusuf stole a few minutes of privacy to do prayers before rejoining everyone else at the inn’s tavern.

As expected of trade season, the place was busy, people crammed in to the rafters. It was noisy, too, conversations in every possible language overlapping each other, a cacophony of noise. It took a minute for Yusuf to find his quarry, as for once, Nicolo didn’t stand out like a sore thumb in this crowd. Eventually he spotted his lover, sitting with his back to the wall. Yusuf slipped in between tables and other patrons, aiming for the open seat at his side. But as he moved, he noted that Nicolo was listening with deep interest, a complicated expression on his face. What was this?

Nicolo spied him and waved him in closer, a little urgently. Before Yusuf even properly had his butt on the bench, Nicolo whispered into his ear, “I can’t quite catch it all but they’re sharing ghost stories, something about a cursed graveyard nearby where a woman rose from the dead?”

Yusuf gave him a sharp look, interest piqued. No wonder Nicolo had that look on his face. He tapped a finger on the table, bringing Gan’s attention to him. “Gan, what was that about a woman rising from the dead?”

“ _I_ say its nonsense,” Gan told him, getting his disclaimer out ahead of time. “But supposedly several years ago, there was a fight that broke out near here. A few people were wounded in the process. A few died outright. They were all carted over to the local cemetery, which is in the back of the town, and buried there. Only at some point in the night, a woman counted as one of the dead dug her way free of the grave and walked out. People are saying that the ground isn’t hallowed and they refuse to bury anyone else there.”

Yusuf tried not to sound too eager as he questioned, “What of the woman? Does anyone know anything about her?”

“Just that she was a warrior, part of the fight.” Gan shrugged, not interested in anything else. “She wasn’t seen again after that.”

A serving girl plopped three tankards of drinks and a plate for Yusuf down in front of him. As she delivered the order, she pitched in, “They did put a stone over her grave. So that no one else could take advantage of the hole and bury something in it.”

Something or someone? Likely someone. Open graves tended to attract bodies. Yusuf bit the question back as it wasn’t important. He did catch Nicolo’s eye and the man gave him a slight dip of the chin.

Oh yes. They would definitely investigate this.

***

Yusuf borrowed a lantern after dinner and they snuck out the back. Most of the locals were at home with their own dinner, fortunately. It left a quiet town with few witnesses. The cemetery wasn’t difficult to find, as it was the only open ground near the town that didn’t have something planted in it. Or grazing in it.

“I wonder which one it was?” Nicolo mused, his hand in Yusuf’s as they walked. “The shorter woman or the taller one?”

Yusuf may have walked more slowly than usual to give himself proper time to indulge in holding his lover’s hand. It didn’t happen often, these days. “At this point, we likely have no way of knowing. Well, the length of the grave might tell us.”

“Ah, good point. They wouldn’t needlessly dig a larger hole. I wish this hadn’t happened so many years ago. If it were more recent, we’d know she was close.”

“That and someone might remember her name.” Yusuf was aggravated by that himself. Still, it was the first sign they had of this woman walking in the real world. That she wasn’t just a shared figment of their imaginations.

“The woman they buried. You don’t think she was something…else, do you?”

Yusuf paused and looked at Nicolo blankly. “Something other than human, you mean? Why would you think that?”

“Because there’s other things in mythology that also like to be very hard to kill?” Nicolo responded with an uneasy glance at his surroundings. “I’m not really a superstitious person, but…”

Well, Yusuf could hardly blame him for the thought. It was the atmosphere that likely put those thoughts in his head. It was incredibly still out here, so much so that a single footstep sounded as loud as a thunderclap. It was a full moon tonight, too, which also messed with a man’s mind. And they were surrounded by the dead to boot. “I hardly think so, my heart. Everyone else thought her human, right? Odds are she’s like us.”

“I really hope so.” Nicolo shook the thought off like a dog shedding water before stepping forward again, determined this time. “I’m being silly. Let’s investigate this grave, see if there’s any clues. It’s a long shot, but I hope someone at least carved a name into the stone.”

“A name would be helpful.” Yusuf wasn’t holding his breath, though.

Even by lantern’s mellow light, the grave wasn’t hard to find. It was the only one covered, by a flat slab of grey stone that must have been quarried for this purpose. Just how much had this unnerved people, that they would go through such efforts? Yusuf shined the light over the stone, hovering close, but it was a pristine surface on top. No engravings.

“Figures,” Nicolo sighed in resignation. “Well, do you want to shift the stone enough to look inside, see if she left anything behind?”

“Might as well while we’re here. I doubt there is, though.”

“I doubt it too but we might as well check instead of wondering later. I’ll get this side if you get the other.”

Yusuf had to put the lantern aside, several feet away to avoid knocking it over. Then he put tried to find a spot to slide his fingers under, which proved to be something of a challenge, as the dirt wasn’t very yielding here. Maybe pushing it over with his feet would be better—

“Yusuf, DOWN!” Nicolo barked.

He didn’t question the warning, just tucked and rolled to the side. Even then, he didn’t get out of the way quite in time, and a glancing blow struck his head, leaving his skull ringing. Trying to shake that off, he scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword with a quick yank.

The man, half in shadow, went after Nicolo next with a yell. No, wait, it was two men. Two men were after he and Nicolo. Yusuf had to trust Nicolo could manage the one after him as he had his own opponent to worry about.

A whistle, high pitched and one he knew well. An arrow in flight—it was all Yusuf had time to think before something struck him hard in the chest, bright pain, and then blackness.

He came to who knew what time later, lying on his side with his face pressed into the dirt. With a groan, he rolled onto his back, and fortunately, the arrow did not go with him. Dammit, the archer had been skilled. He’d taken that straight to heart _and_ had a bloody hole in his shirt to prove it.

Getting an elbow underneath him, he immediately turned his head, looking for Nicolo. He found the man also sitting up, giving him the same anxious look, but when they both saw the other was fine, they smiled at each other in relief.

“I barely saw the archer,” Nicolo admitted sourly as he hefted himself to his feet. “They were good, whoever they were. I think we were mistaken as grave robbers.”

“Oh, is that why?” Yusuf rolled up to his feet with a grunt, looking around for his lantern. They’d fortunately left it behind. “I suppose we did look suspicious. We should leave before anyone comes back.”

“Wise.” Nicolo scooped up the lantern before joining him and they walked quickly, lengthening their strides with the hopes of getting out sooner.

Of course their luck wasn’t that good. They’d barely gotten any distance from the grave when they spied several people approaching them. One of the men took a single look before letting out a strangled scream. Another stopped dead, wide eyes shining by the lantern light.

“What is wrong with both of you?” the lantern holder demanded. He looked more official, in a jacket with insignia on it. Probably the city guard.

Raising a shaking finger, the screamer stuttered out, “I—I k-killed them both. I shot them. They’re dead men walking!”

Thinking fast, Yusuf grabbed a hand over the hole in his shirt, hiding it from view, and simultaneously pulling the shirt aside to reveal a smooth chest. “I’ve not been shot, see? No holes in me.”

Nicolo was quick to follow the act and did the same, hiding the hole in his shirt and pulling it aside to reveal his (completely sexy) chest. “Same here. Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Or it could be the full moon playing tricks on you,” Yusuf suggested with a kindly smile.

Guard seemed to think something was strange and demanded of them, “But what are you doing up here?”

“We heard the story of the woman that crawled out of her grave,” Nicolo answered truthfully. “We were curious and came up to see it, that’s all. We’ve only been up here a short time. The grave didn’t look disturbed to us. Are you sure someone else was up here?”

The guard gave the other three an exasperated look. “You have got to stop drinking so much at dinner. This is just embarrassing. Go home to your wives.” When they failed to move, he put hand to their shoulders, forcing them to turn back and down the narrow trail. “Go on, go. Next you’ll be telling me that woman is back and wants her grave after all.”

They gave them a little distance and struck out away from the trail, heading back into town via a different route. Both men were frantically trying to assure the guard that they really _had_ shot them, and they weren’t drunk. They got louder and louder the further away they got, but the guard was having none of it, pushing them firmly back into the town.

As they walked with forced casualness, Nicolo whispered, “I think we just gave credence to the superstition.”

“No bet, my love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. XDDD


End file.
